


All of the Stars

by teddyiam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, mtv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 66,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddyiam/pseuds/teddyiam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal any time soon; instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder than before. When her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune, Jessie and her friends' world is thrown off its axis yet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Surfing YouTube for cat videos. Watching old movies from our childhood. Blogging on Tumblr. Taking selfies on each other’s phone. I sit in my living room on this Saturday night with my best friend of six years. Thomas and I are lounging on the small couch in my living room. The TV is playing in the background, but we’re not paying much attention to it. Tonight is like many other weekends that we’ve spent together: the two of us not really doing anything at all. While we do go out a lot of the times, we spend just as many nights at each other’s homes relaxing and doing very little. Nights at home like this remind just how lucky I am to have friends like Thomas.

Ever since my father and I moved to Atlanta six years ago, Thomas has been the greatest friend that I have here. I left my two greatest friends behind when we moved so it was incredibly difficult for me to grieve over my mother’s death without them. Fortunately, we’ve stayed in close contact. Saying goodbye to my family, best friends, and leaving my hometown was very difficult, especially after just losing my mother. That’s when Thomas came along; he lived down the street from the place my father and I were living in Atlanta. He had recently lost his mother as well so he could really relate with me. The two of us are very similar, and we get along extremely well. Although our friendship is much different than what I have with Scott and Stiles, I still cherish it.

“Watch this, Jessie,” Thomas says, turning his laptop so that I can see.

I roar with laughter at the Vine video. We go on like this for another half hour before we go into the kitchen. From the refrigerator, I take out two cans of Coca-Cola. I stand back up and shake my cooper colored hair out of my face; you’d think that my hair would stay out of my face more considering that I have a pixie cut, but that never seemed to be the case. I make my way across the kitchen to grab a bag of popcorn, which is when I see that Thomas is standing by the back door that’s in the kitchen. He must notice that I’m eyeing him, wondering what he’s doing. 

“I just need to check on the dog,” Thomas says. He puts on his shoes by the back door. “My parents are out of town so I’m the only home to take care of him.”

“Alright,” I say, putting the popcorn in the microwave. “I’ll leave it unlocked for you.”

Thomas nods and exits through the door. He hasn’t been gone but a couple minutes when I hear heavy steps coming through the front door. The sigh leaves my mouth before I even have time to think about it. I run a hand through my oh-so-short-and-curly hair as I make my way into the living room. My dad is stumbling around, attempting to stay upright by holding onto the wall. He stomps around the room obviously unaware of how awkwardly he’s walking. Here we go again, I think to myself.

Over the years, I’ve lost track of how many times my father has come home drunk—sometimes it’s at dusk. I stopped keeping track five and a half years ago of how many times I’ve had to take care of him. My father has done this often since my mother died. Her death was exceptionally difficult for him. About six months after she died, he took up drinking as a means of coping. My father just needed to forget about the pain, but what he didn’t realize—and still doesn’t realize—is that numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.1

Progressively, his habit got worse and worse. I understand what it’s like not to want to feel the pain and to want to forget as though nothing happened. What I can’t understand is how he could forget about me when I’m right here in front of him. How could he choose alcohol over me? Why did he force me to grow up so fast and have to take care of him instead of the other way around?

“Hey, kiddo!” My dad slurs. He staggers towards me.

I wrap an arm around his waist. I take a deep breath, hoping I can get him to the bathroom without him falling or puking all over the both of us.

“Hey, Pops,” I say, directing him towards the bathroom.

He’s silent while we move towards the bathroom. Fortunately, it doesn’t take us long to get there. As if on cue of walking into the bathroom, my dad plops in front of the toilet where he begins to vomit. For me, it’s as if nothing is happening while I begin to wet a washcloth in cool water. I turn back towards my dad who takes a loud, shaky breath with his head still in the toilet. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, I watch him dry heave for a few minutes. My dad sits back, leaning against the bathroom wall; his eyes are closed. I watch him closely, noticing how still he’s sitting.

For a minute, I sit across from my father, staring at him. Not wanting to overcrowd him, I decide that a minute to breathe will be good for him before I start cool him with the rag and take him to his room. A minute or so later I lean forward.

“C’mon, Dad. Let’s go to bed.” My father doesn’t move. Typical, I think. “Seriously, Dad—you need to go to bed.”

I roll my eyes and nudge him on the shoulder. He doesn’t move. At all. I stare at him. My brow furrows in concern. Even when he’s really wasted, he at least moves slightly at my touch—whether it’s from agitation or agreement. A few seconds pass before I nudge him again, but harder this time. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The sound of my heart pounding is all I hear. If you’ve never seen a loved one unresponsive, then you’re not fully aware how loud silence can be. I lean forward to see if I can hear him breathing. Again: nothing. I grab his wrist trying to find a pulse. It’s faint—incredibly faint.

“Shit!” I mutter repeatedly. I look around wildly for my phone. “Holy shit this isn’t happening!”

“Jessie?”

I jump around to see Thomas standing in the doorway. I stutter, trying to find the words to say. Thomas looks past me to see my father lying on the bathroom tile. The fear in my eyes and the lack of movement from my father must tell Thomas everything.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Thomas says. He takes out his cellphone.

I place the washcloth on my father’s forehead, hoping it’ll help. Thomas stays on the phone with the 911 operators. Thomas checks my father’s pulse and gives the operator the results. Within minutes, there’s a knock on my door. I dart out of the bathroom and towards the front door without giving Thomas a chance to register that I’ve stood up. I take the stairs two at a time and the crew try to keep up with me. My hands are flying around as I talk rapidly to them.

Once in the bathroom, the woman kneels in front of my father to start treating him. The young man, who can be no more than twenty-seven, gently takes a hold of my wrists; he quietly tells me that I must slow down so that he can understand what happened. With Thomas’s help, I repeat myself and inform them of what happened. I’m speaking slower now, but I don’t quite hear myself so I’m not sure if I’m making much sense to him.

Everything is a blur to me; I feel as though I’m in a daze, not fully comprehending what’s happening. In the ride in the ambulance to the hospital, it’s as I’m there physically, but mentally I am all over the place, unable to get a grasp on reality. I’ve already lost my mother. I had to leave my hometown, friends, and family. My father left five and a half years ago (figuratively of course) thanks to the alcohol. However, he can’t really leave me, especially not like this. I can’t be abandoned.

At the hospital, doctors and nurses rush him back to a room to begin testing and treating him. Thomas enters the waiting room a few minutes after I do. I stand up as soon as I see him enter, and I begin to make my way towards him slowly. When he spots me, he dashes towards me. Thomas stares at me when we’re finally standing in front of one another. I’m silent and staring at the ground rather than looking up at him, but he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Thomas wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I let out the breath that I’ve been holding for who knows how long. This is when I begin to break down, crying in Thomas’ arms.

Two and a half hours later, Thomas and I are sitting on a couch. I’m curled into his side, sleeping. He nudges me in the side; I wake up and glance at him. Thomas nods ahead of us, and that’s when I see a nurse approaching us.

“Are you Miss McCall?” The nurse asks once she’s standing in front of us. I nod. “Will you come with me?”

I stand up and follow her with Thomas by my side. She leads us down some narrowing halls before coming to a halt a few moments later. The look in her eyes resembles the same look my father had when he told me about my mother’s death. I open my mouth to speak, knowing what she’s going to say. I close it and run my hand through my hair. I try again and I finally get my words out.

“He’s dead,” I say slowly and softly. The nurse nods with a sorrowful look on her face. “What happened?”

“His heartbeat was irregular,” the nurse begins. “It caused him to have a seizure. His breathing stopped along with his heart. We tried everything we could to resuscitate him, but we couldn’t bring him back. I’m so sorry.”

I play absentmindedly with my knuckles, a habit that I’ve had since I was a child. The lump in my throat is growing as I look anywhere but at the nurse and Thomas. Everything seems so close, like it’s caving in; all I want is to be able to get out of here as soon as possible.

“I need to call someone,” I say.

The nurse says that’s fine and that she can take me to see my father whenever I’m ready. Thomas watches me, seeing if I need help.

“Can I be alone for a minute?” I ask.

Thomas nods and says, “I’ll be in the waiting room.”

After he’s turned the corner, I sit down against the wall and pull out my phone. I immediately call an old family friend who lives here in Atlanta.

“John?” I say when he answers. “It’s my dad… Can you come down to the hospital?”

I talk with John for several more minutes. John tells me that his on the road at the moment, heading to the hospital. When I’ve finally finished talking to John, I sit there for a moment. It’s as if my entire world is spinning. What the hell am I going to do? My father is officially gone; while the alcohol took him from me years ago, I always held out hope that he’d come back to me. The two people I want to run to, the two people that I want to hold me as I cry, the two people that I want to talk with about the memories are gone. My parents are never coming back.

Looking back at all the times I spent with my parents—good or bad—feels different now that they’re both gone. The only ones I want to remember the memories with are gone. The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself.2 The thought of moving on rips me apart because I don’t want to move on without my parents. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to lose the memories. How can I move on when I just want to stay in the past?

I pull my legs up to my chest and I tug at my hair. All I want is for the pain to stop, but I don’t quite know how to make it stop. I check my phone to see that it’s three in the morning. Whenever I feel like this, I always end up doing the same thing: calling my best friend. I scroll through my contacts until I find his number and call him immediately. The phone rings a few times before his groggy voice answers. A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth at the sound of his voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” I say quietly.

“Jessie?” Stiles asks. “Wait”—his voice is more alert, more awake—“it’s three in the morning. You’re not hurt or in trouble are you? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Sort of,” I say with a shrug although he can’t see me. “Not really.”

“Tell me everything.”

So I do. Even after I’m done explaining what’s happened over the last few hours, Stiles and I continue to talk. It’s nice to simply be talking to him. I find myself roaring with laughter at Stiles’ jokes despite the numbness in my chest. How is it that he always knows exactly what to say? After several minutes of speaking with Stiles on the phone, I see John walk around the corner with a nurse by his side. John smiles and waves from down the hall; I wave back.

“Stiles, I have to go,” I say. “I have to talk with the nurses. My dad’s friend, who’s a lawyer, is here to help me figure things out.”

“Alright, Jessie,” Stiles says softly. “Get some rest as soon as you can okay? Love you, buddy.”

“Love you too, bud.”

With that, we hang up. I stand up to face John and the petite nurse who is standing next to him. The three of us take for a few moments outside my father’s room. Afterwards, I enter the room alone to say my final goodbyes. I take a seat in the chair next to the bed; I pull it close to the bed that my father is lying on. If I didn’t know that he’s dead, I’d give into my mind’s trick that he is merely sleeping. Thinking of how he had looked at me as he sat on the bathroom tile before he passed out causes my heart tighten followed by the tears to build in my eyes. His sober self seemed to be shining through, and it was like it was his way of apologizing; it was like he was saying that everything would be okay.

And, you know, maybe things will be ok. Right now it may not feel like it, but surely things will be ok again one day soon. I take my father’s hand in mine. It’s cold, but I try not to think of it. The tears fall from my eyes, wetting my cheeks. Although I know he’s dead and can’t hear me, I say my goodbyes, hoping he can hear me—somehow, somewhere—how much I love him. Fifteen minutes later I’m walking back into the hall. John and I make our way to the waiting room where I see Thomas lying asleep on the couch. I chuckle at the sight of him. I kneel in front of the couch. I nudge Thomas softly, watching his eyes open widely; he jumps slightly at my touch.

“Hey, Jessie,” Thomas says, sitting up. “What can I do?”

“Go home and get some rest,” I say, sitting next to him. Thomas protests, but I quickly interrupt him. “Thanks for coming with me. I can’t thank you enough, Thomas.”

“You’re welcome. Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”

“No, I’ll be okay. I need to settle some things with John before I go home.”

“Okay. Call me after you’ve gotten some sleep yourself. I’ll come over so you don’t have to be alone in the house.”

I thank him, and we say our goodbyes. John and I head to the cafeteria in order to get some coffee. We sit down at a table in the corner where John begins to talk over everything with me. For another two hours or so, John and I sit in the cafeteria, discussing everything. We finally come to a conclusion: tomorrow we will finalize all my dad’s stuff, on the next day I’ll fly out to Beacon Hills to live with my family there, and John will finish any last things on his own.

When John drops me off at my house, I feel like a zombie walking through the backdoor. My legs have suddenly grown as heavy as led and my fingers fumble with the key as I unlock the door. I’m already starting to fall asleep as I make my way into the house. Grabbing a blanket from the chair, I flop down on the couch rather than take the stairs to my bedroom; I don’t even bother to change out of my clothes. Because I am mentally and emotionally exhausted from the day’s hardships, I quickly doze off, finding comfort in sleep.

Index  
1 - JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire  
2 - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

A sneeze from a few rows back. Squeak of the wheels of the drink and food cart. Laughter from what appeared to be a newlywed couple in the seats across the aisle. Drunken conversation between the three middle-aged men in the front row. Snores from the guy in his mid-twenties in the seat in front of me. The flight has been decent and full of the usual noises and activities that typically fill one.

Thump! Well, minus that of course. I jolt forward slightly as the eight-year-old boy kicks my chair. Again. It’s not by accident I’m sure because he always giggles. My brows scrunch together and a soft, irritated sigh escapes my lips.

In attempts to drown out all the noise, I have my headphones in. “Painted Blue” by Sundy Best is playing, and I’m wondering if this is how my father felt after my mother died. Thump! I open my eyes slowly, trying not to become too angry.I bite my lip and squeeze my armrest tightly. The anger is boiling inside me. There’s only twenty minutes left, I think. You can do it. My three and a half hour flight from Atlanta to Beacon Hills is nearly over; except for the annoying kid behind me, the flight has been good.

The guy, who happens to be the same age as myself, sitting next to me notices my stiff posture and my furious face. He glances over his shoulder at the kid. Although Sam and I haven’t met before, we’ve talked and gotten to know each other quite well in the last few hours. I meet his gaze as he turns back around. Sam offers me a smirk.

“Don’t give me that look,” I hiss.

“Sorry,” Sam replies. He offers me a sympathetic look. “I’ll handle it.”

I raise a brow at him questioningly, but he only raises a finger, indicating for me to watch. Sam turns around and eyes the kid again before looking at the kid’s father.

“Excuse me, sir?” Sam says politely. “Could you please tell your son to stop kicking her chair? It’s been going on for some time now and we’ve tried to be patient.”

“You’re going to wait three hours to ask?” The father asks chuckling. “If you put up with it this long, I think you can deal with it for another fifteen minutes or so.”

“Dammit,” I mumble angrily.

Sam glares at the father. He looks back at the kid who’s smiling at him.

“You little shit-head,” Sam says to him. I stifle a laugh as Sam turns around smirking. “Sorry, I tried.”

I thank him and we’re quiet again, returning to our thoughts. A small smile tugs at the corners of mouth knowing that I get to see—even live with—my cousin and aunt again. Scott and I have been incredibly close since we were in diapers; we’re practically siblings. We grew up next door to each other. That was until my mother died in a car accident when I was ten. My father and I both took it hard. We both kept everything bottled up, not wanting to show our feelings. I recovered sooner and better than my father did.

We moved out of the house within a month of her death and traveled to Atlanta. My dad was a CEO for a large marketing company so that was his sole excuse for us moving to Atlanta. I may have just been a kid, but I knew better. I knew it was because of the fact that it was too hard for him to be in the house him and my mother bought when they got married at twenty-one. A year after her death, my father reached an all-time low and was missing my mother terribly. He began working later and more often by that point in attempts to keep busy. Not to mention, he had already started drinking some, but he began drinking even more. The drinking eventually caught up to my father, leading to his death a few days ago.

God bless John who helped me settle everything: my dad’s will, selling the house, finalizing all of my father’s other things, and setting me up to move in with Scott and Melissa. The funeral was yesterday and I didn’t waste much time leaving. With a shaky breath, I push the thoughts out of my mind, not wanting to replay the painful memories. I look out the window just in time to see us touch the ground. It’s not long before I’m saying goodbye to Sam and exiting the plane. I walk through the halls of the airport, moving a strand of my chocolate brown hair out of my face.

To distract myself from the nerves, I play with the three golden loops that are in my cartilage on my right ear. The excitement of seeing my cousin and aunt, who’s always been a second mother to me, escalades with every step. I straighten the button up that’s under my oversized cream sweater, and then I fiddle with the straps of my backpack to distract myself. My eyes scan the crowds surrounding the luggage conveyor belts. A wide smile covers my face at the sight of the familiar tanned, brown-eyed boy waving crazily at me about thirty yards away. Next to Scott, Melissa is holding a sign that reads "Welcome home, Jessie!”; the words melt my heart.

“Jess!” Scott yells, earning several glances from nearby strangers.

I step off and jog towards Scott who’s already running full speed at me. Scott collides into me, sending us stumbling backwards. Our laughter fills the air as I throw my arms around his neck. Scott wraps his arms around me and twirls me around in circles. He sets me back down and hugs me again. Scott’s always been more of a brother to me. Our family and friends even called us “the twins” because we’re so close—and not to mention we were born a week apart.

“Oh, man, I’ve missed you,” I say brightly.

“It’s nice to have you back, cuz,” Scott says.

He places an arm around my shoulder, leading me off towards his mom. I wrap an arm around his torso and squeeze him.

“Jessie, I’m so glad you’re here!” Melissa squeals.

“Melissa, come here!” I cheer. “I’ve missed you!”

Scott takes the poster from her so she can hug me. We hug each other tightly and squeal like teenage girls.

“Sorry we couldn’t make it to the funeral yesterday. We felt so terrible. The hospital is really short on staff and it’s been facing other difficulties so they wouldn’t let me take off.”

I assure her that it’s fine. Honestly, it is; I understand that they have lives separate from mine. After chatting for a few moments, my luggage finally appears on the conveyer belt. (I’ve already shipped all of my other stuff through the mail, but my suitcase carried my remaining items.) Scott, being the sweet guy he is, rolls it to the car for me. The car ride to their home—well, my home too now I guess—is full of laughter and constant chatter. For the first time in a while, I find myself letting my guard down and enjoying myself. All my worries and fears vanish as I catch up with them.

“I can’t wait for you to meet some of my friends,” Scott says, excitedly.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” I ask, nervously.

“Are you kidding? You’re amazing! What’s not to like about you, Jessie?”

“Thanks, Scott. Stiles doesn’t know I’m coming today, right?”

“No, we kept it a surprise just like you asked.”

I grin as I think about surprising Stiles. When I grew up in Beacon Hills, Stiles, Scott, and I were inseparable. I’ve spent every summer in Beacon Hills after I moved, which helped us stay close. I’ve always considered Stiles my best friend, even after I moved away. We kept in touch constantly after I moved; we called each other often, texted daily, and Skyped weekly. Sometimes I even think we became closer despite the distance. Stiles and I became a lot closer after my mother’s death because he understood me better than anyone else. Although I had plenty of friends in Atlanta, none of them could compare to Stiles or Scott.

The butterflies swarm around in my stomach at thought of seeing Stiles. In the last several months, I watched all my friends start dating and going out with other couples. I began to feel even lonelier because all I wanted was for Stiles to be there with me. It took sitting on the sidelines as everyone else experienced love for me to realize that I had always had feelings for Stiles. But he didn’t see me because he had his eyes on Lydia. Nonetheless, I wasn’t letting that get in the way of my excitement of seeing him.

“Can we go see him as soon as we get to your house?” I question.

“Sure!”

Ten minutes later we arrive at their house. We only stay long enough to drop off my things. Looking out at the familiar sights of my hometown, I begin to fidget with excitement, knowing I’m close to seeing my best friend.

“Are you nervous?” Scott chuckles.

“I’ve just missed him,” I say. Scott smiles and looks oddly at me for a moment. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“C’mon, just tell me, Jess. I can see it written all of your face. How long have you liked Stiles as more than a friend?”

I feel the blush creep on my cheeks rise. Damn, I think, I should’ve figured he’d know. I glance out the window.

“I didn’t realize it until a couple weeks ago, but I’ve liked him for forever.”

A weird smile appears on Scott’s face as he watches the road. I can’t figure out what he’s thinking and it’s bothering me. Does he think I’m crazy?

“I’ve always thought you guys would end up together,” Scott admits quietly. His thumbs tap the steering wheel.

“Well,” I sigh, “Stiles likes Lydia so—”

“Don’t starting doubting, okay? Trust me.”

What is he talking about? I know that Scott isn’t telling me everything, but I don’t let it go. Scott pulls over in front of Stiles’ house. We hop out of the car and approach the house. I hide behind Scott in attempts to really surprise Stiles.

“Hey, Scott, what’s up?” Stiles says, opening the door.

It takes everything in me not to giggle.

“I’ve got a surprise,” Scott says smirking.

“A surprise? Where?”

I step out from behind Scott. Stiles eyes widen and the cheeky grin I love appears on his face. His mouth quivers as he struggles to find words. Before I have time to register that he’s moved, Stiles is pushing Scott to the side and attacking me with a hug. My feet are lifted off the ground; I wrap them around his waist. I giggle, placing my arms around his neck.

“Jessie, you’re here! Why didn’t anyone tell me you were coming today?”

“It would ruin the surprise you goof!” I say through my laughter.

Finally, I’m back on the ground, but Stiles’ arms haven’t released me yet. Stiles wobbles from side to side. I laugh, squeezing him tighter. He chuckles softly in my ear; his face is in the crook of my neck and I feel his smile widen as his breath hits against my neck. I shiver, leaning into him more.

“I can’t believe it!” Stiles says, letting me go. “This is great! You’ll get to spend the weekend with us before you start school on Monday.”

I smile and nod. For a moment, none of us speak. Stiles is still shocked, but he shares a smile with me. I blush and glance away. Scott meets my gaze; he raises a brow and smirks.

“So what do you guys want to do?” Scott asks.

Stiles glances at his phone. “It’s five thirty.”

“I’m starving!” I reply. “Let’s go eat.”

“Let’s go to the pizza parlor,” Scott says. “Is that cool?”

Stiles and I agree.

“Well,” I say, “let’s roll.”

The three of us make our way towards Scott’s car. Stiles nudges me in the side before he starts walking more quickly towards the car in attempts to beat me. I huff, pretending to be angry. Stiles looks over at his shoulder at me, grinning mischievously. He slows down and I hop on his back. With me still on his back, Stiles opens the back seat car door. Stiles turns around, leans down, and lets go of me, resulting in me falling into the car seat.

“Stiles!” I holler, stifling my chuckles.

Stiles’ laughter rings through the air as he sits down in the passenger seat next to Scott. He looks back at me with a smirk and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Sorry, Jess,” Stiles says, “but I was in charge.”

I roll my eyes and put my seatbelt on. Scott tells Stiles to text Lydia and Allison tell them to meet us at the pizza parlor. The anxious butterflies start batting wildly around in my stomach at the thought of meeting Allison who I’ve never met before. I begin to unconsciously crack my knuckles and twiddle my fingers, a nervous habit of mine since I was a child. Will she like me? What will she think of me—that I’m weird, I laugh too loud, I’m too quiet, I act crazy once I’m comfortable with someone?

On the ride there, I laugh and joke around with the boys, but the nerves don’t fade. I meet Scott’s eye in the mirror after about ten minutes into the drive. Scott raises a brow, silently acknowledging my habit. Glancing away, I try to stop fiddling with my hands, but his awareness only increases the habit. Stiles notices our exchange and glances between the two of us. He rests his eyes on me, studying me. I look back at Stiles who offers me a small, comforting smile. I feel a soft smile tug at the corners of my lips as well. Stiles shifts in his seat so he doesn’t have to strain so much to see me.

“Are you nervous?” Stiles asks.

I nod. “A little…”

“Why are you so nervous?”

“You know I’m not so good with new people and I just want her to like me.”

“She will like you, Jessie.”

Stiles pats my knee and grins. I don’t know what to say, so I only smile. Scott pulls into the parking lot and into an empty spot. I follow suit and get out of the car. As we walk across the parking lot, I find my place between the two of them, looking for their comfort and protection. It’s not that I detest meeting new people because I do I like meeting other people. It’s just that I’ve always been sort of shy; since my mother died, I’ve gotten particularly used to pushing others out, making it difficult for me to open up to others.

Stiles must notice my uneasiness because I feel him playfully elbow me in the ribs. I grin and shove him back. He smiles down at me and offers me his arm. I loop mine in his as we make our way onto the sidewalk and into the pizza parlor.

“Hey, guys, over here!” A light, cheery voice says from across the parlor.

My eyes dart around the pizza parlor before finally landing on the group of people at the table in the back. There are three of them. I had been preparing myself for just Lydia and Allison, not anyone else. My hand that’s not looped in Stiles’ arm squeezes his upper arm.

“Jess, calm down,” Stiles mutters out of the corner of his lips.

I feel his free hand trace a few quick circles on my hand that’s clenching his bicep. I take a deep breath, attempting to calm myself down. Here we go…


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Scott walks in front of us, leading us to the table. I’ve managed to calm myself down, but I’m still nervous.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Scott says cheerfully as we approach the table.

The others all greet Scott and Stiles. I notice Lydia sitting on the inside of the booth next to a dark-haired girl who I assume is Allison. Lydia waves at me, using the same waving motion we came up with in second grade. She wiggles her fingers in a way a toddler would. My smile widens and I wave back in the same fashion. Allison and the boy sitting across from her share an odd expression. The boy smirks and looks confused; his eyes land on mine for a moment before looking down at his drink. Why is he blushing? Because of me? Surprisingly, it makes me more relaxed rather than nervous. He’s just adorable, and I can’t help but think so.

“It’s our wave,” Lydia says, noticing their questioning looks. “We made it up in second grade.”

“You remember,” I say with a grin.

“Of course, Jess! We’ve been best friends since kindergarten.”

It’s true. Lydia has always been more outgoing than me and definitely not as soft-spoken as me. For some reason, however, we became best friends back then and managed to uphold our friendship, even after I moved.

“Well, now that they’ve reunited,” Scott says, “I guess it’s time to introduce the rest of you to her.”

Scott introduces me to Allison who smiles at me before standing up to hug me. Wow, I think, she seems cool. I think we’ll get along.

“Now, Jessie,” Scott says, pointing to the boy, “this is Isaac.”

Isaac also gets up to hug me. I’m well aware of his stunning smile and clear blue eyes. There’s a slight blush on Isaac’s cheek, but I pretend not to see. Stiles must notice because he puts a hand on the small of my back. Isaac meets Stiles eye; he coughs and sits back down, not meeting either of our eyes again. Knowing how Stiles can be protective of me, I suppress my giggles at the gesture.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all,” I say with a smile.

“C’mon, guys,” Allison says, “sit down.”

Scott takes a seat next to Allison. I crawl into the booth next to Isaac and Stiles squeezes in next to me. The conversation begins slowly with little interjection from me. They all talk about school, lacrosse, and all the other things they have to do. I don’t know what is, but there’s something about the conversation that seems strange. It’s like there’s something they all want to talk about; it’s like they’re toeing around a topic they can’t—or won’t—talk about. I think I’m putting too much thought in to it, so I just let it go.

After about five minutes, Isaac and Allison start asking me questions, hoping to get to know me better. I answer their questions and find that I’m not as nervous as I had thought I’d be. I guess they’ve made me feel like part of the group so quickly, easing my nerves. Within a few minutes of talking, I have them all laughing; a few stares are thrown our way because of our loud laughing and chattering, but none of us seem to notice. I’m surprised by how interested Allison and Isaac seem in learning about me as well as how easily I’ve gained their friendship. Our time in the pizza parlor flies by. I sip on my Dr. Pepper as our waitress takes our plates. Stiles pulls out his phone, checking the time. I lean closer to see.

“Whoa, it’s seven fifteen!” I say surprised.

“What do you guys want to do now?” Isaac asks.

We all shrug and look at each other.

“Let’s go to the park,” Allison says. “We could walk around and talk some more.”

“And let’s not forget about playing on the playground,” Stiles says with a twinkle in his eyes. A goofy smile is plastered across his face.

The rest of us agree just as our waitress returns.

“How will the checks be split tonight?” The waitress asks.

Everyone speaks up, saying that they’re on his or her own. I go to say the same, but Stiles interrupts me.

“She and I are together,” Stiles says, pointing to me.

I open my mouth to protest, but she’s already walking away. The others begin to laugh at my gaping mouth. I smile, feeling the giggles making their ways to my lips.

“Stiles,” I say, “you don’t have to pay for me.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles assures me. A wide smile is covering his face. “I want to.”

I offer him a quiet thank you before taking a sip of my drink. I attempt to distract myself to keep from blushing. Why was Stiles so quick and happy to pay for me? I’m grateful for his generous gesture; I mean, we are friends. He’s just being a great friend—that’s all. However, the part of me that likes him more than a friend makes me wonder—and even hope—if it could be possible it’s more than a friendly gesture. Is he just being a great best friend, or is it possible that Stiles feels the same way I do?

Several minutes later, we’re all walking out the door towards our cars. We go our separate ways for now and make our way to the park across town. Fifteen minutes later, Scott is pulling into an empty parking space at the park. I notice the way Stiles’ face lights up and I can’t help but smile. He’s such a little kid, I think. I guess that’s why we’re such great friends. Neither of us can suppress the little kids inside us.

Allison pulls her car into the space beside us and the three of them get out. Slowly but surely, we begin our walk through the park. We continue where our conversations left off at the pizza parlor: our childhoods. We’ve all spoken about funny or embarrassing moments that happened to us growing up. When we first started on this topic, I barely spoke a word; now, all I can think about how everything changed seven years ago when I was ten. I try hard to push all the bad memories away, but some break through. Right now I’m doing what I can to keep from thinking about them too much.

But I can’t.

Bottles stacked high in the trashcan. Liquor spilt on the counter. Jack Daniels in the air. I don’t know why, but some of the memories come creeping back. Allison is telling a funny story from when she was seven, but I’m not listening. At least four times a week, my dad’s drunken footsteps could be heard from my bedroom as he made his way down the hall of our apartment late at night and early into the morning. Thumps and curse words could be heard from my bed as he staggered to his room, running into the walls.

From my bedroom, I could hear him make his way to the bathroom and vomit what was left in his stomach. Every time my I would go to the bathroom, take out a washcloth, and place it on my father’s forehead after I had drenched it in cold water. His senses would be returning at the point as the hangover set in, giving him a migraine and leaving him feeling like shit. He’d breathe a heavy sigh before offering me a soft and forced smile. I know my father meant the smiles. I know he hated that the roles were reversed and I was taking care of him. He loved me, and I knew that. Sadly, we both knew he was fighting his own inner demons and he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to stop—for himself, for me, for us.

The flashbacks only last a few seconds before I push them away for good for the rest of the night. Stiles notices my quietness and the pain in my eyes; he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer into him. I smile up at him to let him know that I’m okay for now. Stiles smiles down at me, and I wrap an arm around his torso. Next thing I know, I’m being tickled. I squeal, jumping away from him. I accidentally bump into Isaac whose eyes widen with surprise. Isaac places a hand on my shoulder to keep me from falling. Stiles laughter rings in the air at my reaction. The others all laugh as well.

“Stiles! Stop it!!” I cry, giggling and clutching my sides.

“Sorry,” Stiles laughs. “I couldn’t help it.”

Stiles smiles at me again and offers his arm to me, silently asking me to loop mine with his. I raise a brow surprised and shake my head no. His face falls and he looks down at his shoes in attempts to appear sad. The playfulness of our friendship is clear and evident to us all as Stiles and I joke with each other. The others all smirk at us. After a few short seconds, Stiles offers me those big, brown puppy eyes that I can never say no to. He offers me a small smile, still acting sad, but trying to make me give in. I feel the air catch in my throat at the sight of him. His humor is twinkling in his eyes and the bright smile covering his face.

As I look up at Stiles, I would love to say that [he makes] me weak in the knees, but to be quite upfront and completely truthful, [he makes] my body forget it has knees at all.1 I remind myself that we’re only friends, but right now that’s enough. Our unique and special friendship is enough for now because Stiles, the crazy, goofy boy in front of me, is the only one who can make me smile and laugh when I’ve had enough of this crazy world. I give in and approach him again; I loop my arm in his.

“There was this one time,” Scott says, continuing with the conversation, “when Jessie and I were throwing a Frisbee in her backyard when were eight. I accidentally threw it over the fence and into the neighbor’s yard that lived behind her. So, we jumped the fence to get it, but it wasn’t anywhere in sight. We’re running around, trying not to be seen because they were so angry all the time—”

“Then,” I butt in, “you finally found it under a bush when the old guy came out yelling at the top of his lungs. We ran for our lives. I don’t remember being so scared and laughing at the same time.”

The others laugh along with Scott and me.

“Our parents were out in the yard when they saw us go over to get it. I remember your dad was so mad at him, but couldn’t help but laugh because we were laughing.”

“Good times,” I mumble, chuckling.

There’s a momentary silence between the six of us. I take a deep, quiet breath, soaking in the summer air. I pull out my phone and check the time, noticing we’ve been walking in the park for a little over half an hour now. I feel Stiles unhook my arm from his and intertwine our fingers. My eyes glance down at our woven fingers before looking up at him. Stiles beams from ear to ear and begins to tug me forward quickly.

“The playground is right over here,” Stiles says excitedly.

Stiles and I jump on the swings. The others join us a few moments later and take a seat on a swing. We all laugh and joke as we swing for a little bit. After we’ve played on the playground for nearly an hour, it’s growing dark. The shades of orange, yellow, and pinks have faded, turning into deep blues and blacks. Stiles stops pushing me on the swing and I come to a halt. He sits down in the swing next to me. There’s silence between us, which isn’t awkward; moments like these aren’t too rare and uncomfortable for us.

I hear Scott’s phone ring and look over to the slide to see him answering it. He doesn’t say much; he mostly just listens to whoever’s on the phone. Scott eyes the others, mostly Isaac. His eyes land on me once, but not for long. The conversation doesn’t last too long and Scott soon hangs up. There’s another short silence. I yawn and finally notice how tired I am from my day of traveling.

“Well,” Scott says, noticing my yawn, “it’s eight thirty… I guess we should head out or else Jess is going to fall asleep on us.”

I smile and say, “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I don’t want to have to make you guys go because of me.”

“It’s fine. Isaac and I need to go talk with someone anyway.”

The six of us stand up and head back towards the cars. Isaac hops into the back seat of Scott’s car with me, so he can go on with Scott to wherever they need to go.

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott says as he pulls out into the street, “why don’t you just stay the night at my house tonight?”

I swear Scott glances back at me, but I can’t tell for sure.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Stiles says obviously getting whatever hint Scott gave. “Take Jessie and me to my house, so I can get my stuff. I’ll drive over to your house once I’m ready.”

Scott agrees and heads over to Stiles’ house. I’ve missed Beacon Hills; I rest my head on the window and look at all the familiar sights from my childhood. The guys don’t say much and neither do I. They haven’t mentioned whom Scott and Isaac are going to see. There’s something odd about this whole thing. I can’t put my finger on it and I know they don’t want me to know about it, even though they—including Lydia and Allison—know. Why won’t they tell me, I think, especially when they all know?

Within ten minutes, we arrive at Stiles’ house. Stiles and I hop out of the car. Isaac takes a seat in the front of the car next to Scott. Stiles takes a few steps towards his house, but I stop in front of Scott’s window.

“Who are you going to see?” I ask, peering at him.

Scott looks up at me through the open window. By the look in his eyes, he knows I understand that they’re keeping something from me.

“Just a friend,” Scott says. I raise a brow questioningly. He sighs, knowing that he can’t fool me. “I’ll explain everything as soon as I can. I promise.”

I stare at him for a moment before glancing at Isaac and Stiles to see that they are watching us intently. There’s something behind all of their eyes that tells me the secret is greater than anything I could ever imagine. Scott is watching me with a serious look his face; he can tell that I understand how crazy and important all this. I hate not knowing what’s going on, and he knows that as well.

I look at him with a pleading look. “Can Stiles tell me while you’re gone? Please, Scott. I know this is serious—whatever it is. You can trust me, so please just let me in on the secret.”

Scott taps the wheel, thinking hard about what to do. He sighs and looks up at me.

“Tell her, Stiles,” Scott tells him.

“C’mon, Jessie,” Stiles says, motioning for me to follow him.

I say goodbye to Scott and Isaac before making my way around the car. Stiles wraps an arm around my shoulders, and we’re quiet as we enter his house. Now that I’m about to learn what’s going on, there’s something a strange feeling in the air. Is it fear, anxiety, or curiosity? Maybe it’s all of them. I follow Stiles up the stairs and into his room. Stiles glances at me and runs a hand through his hair nervously; I can see that he’s weary to tell me. Whatever it is he’s about to tell me, am I really ready for it? 

Index  
1 - Tyler Knott Gregson


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

I plop onto Stiles’ bed and sigh loudly. My mind is trying to understand everything Stiles just explained to me. For the last half hour or so, he told me everything that’s happened since the day Scott was bitten: from Peter’s “death,” to Allison’s aunt and mother’s death, to Boyd, Erica, and Isaac joining Derek’s pack, to the alpha pack and all that drama, to the Deucalion, and to Jennifer. A werewolf! I think. My cousin’s a werewolf!

Honestly, I don’t know what to think. I’m so confused and lost right now; nothing makes sense. I feel the bed sink down next to me, but I keep my eyes closed and don’t look over at Stiles.

“Jess,” Stiles says quietly, “talk to me, please. I know you’re confused and maybe don’t believe me, but I’m telling you the truth.”

I open my eyes and look over to my left where Stiles is watching me closely. Although this is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, I believe him. The sincerity in his eyes and voice let me know everything is true.

“I’m confused,” I admit, “but I believe you.”

“You’ll understand more as time goes on.”

Stiles starts throwing clothes into a duffle bag. My eyes wander around his room, eyeing what’s changed and what hasn’t since my last visit. On his dresser by the window, I see a white Beacon Hills lacrosse baseball cap, which causes me to smile. The last time I visited Beacon Hills I wore that hat of his like crazy. Stiles could barely get it away from me before I boarded my plane. I walk over to the dresser and put the baseball cap on.

“How does it look?” I ask. I put my hands on my hips and smile like a five-year-old kid.

“You look pretty damn good,” Stiles chuckles. His face grows serious as he says, “You always do. You’ve always been beautiful.”

I blush and quietly say, “Thank you.”

Forgetting his duffle bag, Stiles approaches me. He smiles down at me. Then, he flicks the bill of the hat, making me pout. I pull the hat back down to its original position.

“Keep it,” Stiles says. “You wear it more than I do. It looks better on you anyway.”

I smile proudly and thank him again. Stiles’ gesture was as simple as the gift itself. Despite that, I feel compelled to give him something, too. But what? My eyes fall on my necklace. On my necklace rest a shark tooth my mother gave me when she returned from a business trip in California; she gave it to me three days before she died. Next to it rests a silver ring that Stiles’ mother gave me on my birthday the week before her death. This necklace means a lot to me because both women were incredibly important to me and my life has been greatly affected by their loss.

Stiles is silent while I hold the shark tooth and ring between my fingers. He knows quite well how much this necklace means to me; he knows my mother was my best friend, and that his mother meant the world to me. My eyes meet his, and I can see that he knows what I’m thinking. I reach behind my head to unhook the necklace. Stiles shakes his head no in protest.

“Take it,” I say, holding it out in front of him. Stiles is hesitant as he takes my necklace in his hand. “Now we both have something from each other that we can wear to remind us of one another … something to protect us when we’re not together.”

Stiles puts the necklace on. He grins at me before enveloping me in a tight hug. I take a deep breath and take in the familiar aroma that is my best friend. Stiles begins to wobble side to side, making me rock back and forth with him. I giggle and hold onto him tighter so that I don’t fall; I can feel Stiles smile in the crook of my neck. After a moment, we let go. While Stiles continues packing, I spin around in his desk chair while he finishes packing stuff to stay at my house.

“Are you ready to go?” Stiles asks after a few minutes.

I say yes and watch as he throws his duffle back on his shoulder. Stiles nods his head towards the door, indicating for me to go. I head back down the stairs with Stiles close behind me. We make it to the living room and we are about to head out the front door when a voice stops us.

“Hey, Stiles,” a voice from the kitchen says. I turn around and look pass Stiles to see Mr. Stilinski enter the room.

“Jessie?” Mr. Stilinski asks surprised. “Hey, kiddo! I didn’t know you were coming today. Come here!”

With a smile on my face, I walk over to the sheriff and hug him.

“How’s it going?” I ask, releasing him. He’s always been like an uncle to me.

“Alright, I guess. Things have been pretty crazy around here, but it seems like it’s settling down now.”

“That’s good.”

I know he doesn’t know that I know about all the werewolf stuff now. Although I know he knows, I’m not sure if I should mention any of it. Mr. Stilinski eyes his son who’s still standing by the door.

“Dad,” Stiles says, “I’m spending the night at Scott’s.”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Stilinski says. “I guess I’ll see you around soon, Jessie. Keep Stiles out of trouble for me.”

“I’ll try,” I laugh.

“Well, I should know better because you two seem to get into trouble together.”

We all laugh and say our goodbyes. Stiles and I crawl into his Jeep, beginning the ride to Scott’s. We’re silent for a moment as I fiddle with the radio. For several minutes, we don’t speak, simply enjoying each other’s company. I pull my legs up to my chest and watch as the town goes by. I feel Stiles’ eyes on me and I look over at him. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to notice because Stiles glances away quickly; even in the dim night-light, I see a blush creep on his pale cheeks. I smile, admiring how adorable he looks.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” Stiles says, shaking his head.

“Then, what is it?”

His voice is soft, but I still hear him as he says, “I’ve just missed you.”

The smile on my face widens, covering my face. I can see how honest he’s being and that makes it all the more special. Stiles gazes me, but looks away quickly. I can see it took a lot for him to say that. I reach over and wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“I missed you too.” I watch as a grin covers his face. Stiles glances at me before looking back at the road. I can tell by the way he bites his lip and by the look in his eye that something is bothering him.

“How have you been?” Stiles asks. I face the window, not wanting to look at him because I know what he’s referring to. “I’m really sorry about your dad…”

His comment sparks my old habit. I’m silent for a moment as I begin fiddling with my fingers. If there was anyone I could trust with everything, it was Stiles; the only trouble is being able to get off my chest. It’s never been easy for me to talk about these things. That’s the good thing about Stiles though—he’s always been like me when it comes to not letting our guard down, especially after our mothers’ deaths. Although it was difficult to talk about these things, it’s easier for me to talk to Stiles because he knows where I’m coming from.

“I’m okay,” I say slowly. “A part of me never wanted to admit it, but I knew the liquor would take its toll on my dad. I know a lot of people looked down on him because he was an alcoholic. But, Stiles, he was my dad and I loved him. He was sick, but I know the old him was in there somewhere and it hurts like hell that he’s gone. Even through those dark years when he drank, my dad did do some good. Whenever my worn out Jeep broke down, Dad would come out to get me, no matter how far away I was from home. He’d always help me with my guitar when I struggled on a certain song. If I had something going on at school, like a play, he’d come, even though I only worked the set. It’s just how do you let go of someone who left you years ago, but still managed to be there for you?”

Stiles doesn’t say a word. He keeps looking over at me while he drives. I can see how much he wants to make sure I’m fine. I’ve cried just about all the tears in me, but talking about it isn’t any easier. The tears are rising; my vision is blurring and my cheeks are growing hot. I gulp and try to push the tears back. Stiles must notice because I feel him hold my hand, tangling his fingers with mine; he squeezes my hand, reassuring me.

“Where’d you go when you zoned out earlier today?”

“As much as I loved him, I couldn’t help but be angry with him. I was only a kid and he left me—not physically but figuratively. The liquor took him away from me. I had to take care of him when he was hungover and I shouldn’t have had to do that. We argued from time to time, but neither of us won. It hurt to know he never listened to me when I only wanted to do is help. He made all these promises, like quitting … but he never did. All at once, both my mom and dad were gone and I had to leave you guys. It was terrible…”

I stop, wiping away a tear that managed to escape. Stiles doesn’t speak either; he traces circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. I take a deep, shaky breath to calm myself down. My sniffles and heavy breathing are the only sounds. After a moment, I’m feeling better. Being able to get all of that off my chest felt amazing and it’s about time I did. Stiles looks over his shoulder into the back seat. He grabs something and turns back around. I watch as he hands me one of his old t-shirts to wipe my face. Stiles pulls up to the curb in front of Scott’s house, but neither of us make a move to exit the car.

“Feel better?” Stiles asks. I nod. “Good. It’s okay to feel like that, Jess. You know I’ll always listen, so don’t worry about trying to hide it or keep it to yourself. I wish I could’ve been there for you when you were gone. I thought about you all the time though. You’re back now and I want to be here for you. If I can, I’d like to make up for what I couldn’t do.”

I smile. What I do next surprises me just as much as it does him: I lean over and kiss his cheek. Stiles cheeks grow red immediately and I can feel a pink tint glowing on mine. Both of us stare at each other for a moment before glancing away. He’s still holding on my hand; when I kissed him, I felt him squeeze it, which simply made me smile bigger.

“Thanks, Stiles,” I say, smiling.

He grins and says, “Let’s go in.”

I get out of his Jeep and take my place beside him. Stiles throws his arm around my shoulders casually, like he’s been doing for years. Finally, I feel as though a huge weight has permanently been lifted off my shoulders; things are finally getting better and I can see it. I may not have been brought back to Beacon Hills for good reasons, but I’m back where I belong—home with my family and friends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

When I wake up, I have to squint my eyes and adjust to the few bright rays of sun that are peaking through the curtains. I uncurl my legs and pop my toes. The clock on my bedside table reads nine o’clock. Although I felt terrible for doing it, I had immediately taken a shower and gone to bed when we arrived home. Fortunately, last night’s sleep served me well, and I’m feeling refreshed. I lay there for a few minutes longer, willing myself to get up.

Was that a creak? I think to myself. I listen more closely, trying to figure out if I actually heard something. Before I have time to register what’s happening, I’m being jostled around while Stiles jumps on my bed. I groan, but quickly begin to laugh as Stiles chants for me to get out of bed. Scott enters the room and laughs at the site of us: my face tucked in the crook of my arm as Stiles hops around on my bed.

“C’mon, Jess!” Stiles cheers.

He finally stops and sits down on the bed beside me. Scott sits next to Stiles. I lean up and smile at them.

“Well, good morning to you too,” I say chuckling.

“Do you want to go grab some breakfast?” Stiles asks.

“Sure! Where are we going?”

“There’s a small café in town,” Scott says.

I crawl out of bed and say, “Give me ten minutes.”

The boys leave my room, giving me a chance to change. I change quickly into a dark pair of skinny jeans; next, I put on a red and navy plaid button-up that has a touch of black in it. Then, I slip on my gray combat boots. I comb my hair and throw a navy beanie on. As I finish fixing my hair, I look at myself for a moment, admiring my mother’s necklace that she bought on a vacation to the Caribbean the week before her death. A smile creeps onto my face at the thought of the great times we had during that vacation. I brush my teeth and ponder about what’s in store for today.

I’m excited to spend some time with Scott and Stiles. It’s been so long since we’ve spent a long time together and I’m excited to spend time with my best friends. Soon enough, I walk into the living room to find Scott and Stiles sitting on the couch. They’re both caught up in a deep conversation about werewolf business. Stiles eyes fleet up for a moment and land on me; a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth and a blush forms on his cheeks. He quickly turns back to Scott. Something has gotten into him and I can’t tell what it is.

“Are you ready to go, guys?” I ask.

They both nod and follow me out the front door. I crawl over the seats and into the back of Stiles’ Jeep, yet another thing I like about him. (I’ve always been crazy about Jeeps and a boy with one.) On the way to the café, I put my shoes on and listen to the boys’ conversation. The name Derek keeps popping up and something about the name seems really familiar. Fifteen minutes later we arrive at the café. We enter and I see Allison wave at us from across the room.

“Good morning, guys,” Allison says.

The three of us say hello and take a seat in the booth. Scott sits next to her, leaving Stiles and I to sit together.

“What do you guys have planned for the day?” Allison asks.

“We’re going to meet up with Derek,” Scott says.

“Oh, right, I forgot. I guess I’ll come too.”

I look at them all wearily. I desperately wanting to tag along.

“Can I come?” I question them hopefully.

Allison and Stiles look at Scott as if asking him for approval. Scott looks at me worriedly before sighing.

“Sure,” Scott says. “Heads up: Derek can be … intimidating. You’ll figure him out quickly and learn when to take what he says seriously. Don’t take everything he says to heart.”

Stiles turns to me and says, “The dude can be rude son of a—”

I laugh and elbow him.

“C’mon, now,” I giggle. “I’m trying to give this dude a break—some sort of benefit of the doubt. You make him sound terrible.”

They all chuckle.

“I guess you’ll have to figure that out on your own,” Scott says.

For the next half hour, we all make small talk and eat our breakfast. I’m surprised that Stiles once again pays for my meal. Although I appreciate it, I can’t but feel guilty. I crawl into the back of Scott’s car and begin to wonder more about Derek. I know of him from what Stiles told me last night, but there’s just something else that’s bugging me about him. There’s something too familiar about his name. What is it? I ask myself.

Eventually, we arrive outside Derek’s place, which is an old warehouse of some sorts. I step out of the car slowly, looking around me at all the emptiness of the area. Scott goes straight towards the building. Stiles must notice my curiosity and hesitance because he watches me from the other side of the car.

“Are you coming in?” Stiles asks after a few moments.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Stiles and I walk in side by side with Allison following behind us. I walk into the building and look around curiously. Scott’s voice is off in the distance talking to someone. We all continue walking further inside towards the voices. When we enter the room, I see Scott standing next to an older male; they’re both peering down at papers scattered on the table in front of them. Is that the Derek they were talking about? Now, that’s a face I’d never forget.

Although we’ve both grown a lot since the last time we’ve seen each other, I recognize him instantly. I could never forget those blue eyes. His features are darker as if he’s worn down from tough experiences, but all the familiar comfort of our friendship remains. The look in his dark blue eyes tells me that he recognizes me too. The Derek they’d all been talking about turned out to be the same one from my childhood. It’s no wonder his name kept ringing a bell. I notice a grin appear on Derek’s face as well as mine.

“Surely that’s not the same little Jessie I’ve known for years,” Derek says smiling.

“You look a lot different yourself, Derek,” I say.

“Better looking though, right?”

I make an “eh” face and raise an eyebrow, teasing him. Everyone laughs, but Derek’s laugh is the loudest. Derek moves away from the table and towards me; I wrap my arms around his neck, and he hugs me.

“How’s it been, kiddo?”

I shrug. “Alright I guess.”

I look over at Scott and Stiles. Their faces fall, knowing that I’m not necessarily all right. From across the room, Allison bites her lip, but manages to give me an encouraging smile. Stiles, who’s standing beside me, wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me and pulling me into his side. Next to Derek, Scott sighs heavily and scratches his neck; he catches my eye and gives me an apologetic expression. Derek notices their reactions, and he gazes at Scott before looking at me worriedly.

“Did I say something wrong?” Derek asks me softly.

“My father died a few days ago so I moved here to live with Scott.”

“Shit, Jessie, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” They all look at me, unsure of how I’m really feeling. “I’m fine, alright? I don’t want to talk about it.”

The four of them keep quiet, creating an awkward silence that no one seems to know how to break.

“So how do you two know each other?” Stiles asks curiously.

“Well, our mother’s used to work together,” Derek says. “Sometimes my mom would take Jessie along with us if we went out somewhere. It seemed like she tagged along once or twice a week to the park or lunch or family field trips. How long did that go on, Jessie?”

“Gosh,” I say, thinking back. I sit down on a stool in front of the table. “I’d say it lasted about three years. I think it all started when I was four-years-old.”

“You were a cute kid, but you were smart and sometimes a sneaky kid. I always had to keep an eye on you.”

I laugh. “Sorry about that.”

I look down at all the papers in front of me. There are maps of the city and other charts and drawings. No one really speaks; I peer at the four of them. Derek walks over and stands on my right, looking at the papers too. Allison and Scott stand on the opposite side of the table. There’s not room on either of our sides of the table, leaving the heads of the table open for Stiles to stand at. I glance up to see him contemplating where to stand. My eyes quickly focus on the papers again. Looking through the various diagrams and maps, I feel Stiles presence directly behind me.

Does he even have the slightest clue what he’s doing to me? Of all the places he could’ve stood, Stiles chose directly behind me. Can Stiles notice my anxiousness that’s growing as the butterflies flutter harder in my stomach? The breath hitches in my throat and I can feel the heat rising on my cheeks. As I look across the table at the other papers, I meet Scott’s eyes. He smirks, obviously noticing my fluttering heartbeat. I glare at him and turn away; his dimples are popping as he tries not to laugh,. A particular paper in front of Derek catches my attention.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at the paper in front of him.

“It’s one of the plans we had when we were fighting the alphas,” Derek says.

Stiles leans forward and rests a hand on the table. He’s much closer to me now. We’ve been best friends for so long and I’m used to close contact, but this is different now that I’ve developed these feelings for him. Thank God he’s not a wolf, I think to myself. I’m glad Stiles can’t notice my unsteady heartbeat. I just hope he won’t notice my feverish cheeks and uneasy actions.

For the next couple of hours, the others begin to explain all the various documents on the table. I find myself completely engrossed in their stories and what all the documents represent. Derek and I weren’t ridiculously close when I was a kid, but we did get along very well so it’s nice to reconnect with him. Around noon, Stiles and I decide to grab some pizza. The ride to the pizza parlor isn’t long and eventually we’re waiting at the counter for our pizza. While we’re waiting, Stiles and I are being our typical selves: joking and laughing loudly while making fools of ourselves. Some of the other customers stare at us, which doesn’t faze us.

Our friendship has always been so natural and effortless. It’s something that’s been a sense of comfort for me over the years. Knowing that I don’t have to worry about anything or fake anything with Stiles is the best feeling ever. Now that I’m head over heels for him, I’ve begun to see him a new light. I like the way Stiles puts his full attention on who ever he’s talking to. He can make me laugh so easily and tear my guard down, which means so much to me as well.

I love the way he smells whenever his head dips close to hear what I was saying—like the sun striking the cheek of a tomato or soap drying on the hood of a car.1Every little thing Stiles does captures my attention and leaves me breathless. Is it possible that Stiles could ever feel the same way for me? 

Index  
1 - Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Although I’m sitting in the bathroom at my home in Atlanta and I know this can’t be happening, it feels so real. My father is sitting on the floor in front of me; his back is against the wall and his eyes are closed. The whole thing seems so similar to the night my father died. My blood is pulsing so fast I can feel it pumping in my fingertips. The sound of my heart beating is so loud that it’s pounding in my ears. I look back at my father and notice the blood coming from his nose. I close my eyes, wishing for it to stop. When I open my eyes, I’m no longer in the bathroom and my dad isn’t there. Instead, I’m in the middle of woods; I spin around and analyze my surroundings.

My breathing is heavy and jagged. Suddenly, I see Stiles and the pack come out of the woods twenty or thirty yards away. What are they doing here? I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. I’m unable to form words. Something’s not right; I can feel it. Behind them, dark figures appear. I need to shout at them and let them know of the danger. The dark figures pull swords out from their sides as they make their way closer to the others. My heart is pounding harder, my blood is pulsing faster, and my stomach is tightening from fright. The fear is bubbling within me. It’s not real, I think. You gotta wake up! IT’S NOT REAL!! I open my mouth again to scream to the others, but once again nothing comes out. I run towards the others just in time to see one of them stab Stiles.

I pause quickly in my tracks. My heart skips a beat. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. They attack Scott next, followed by Derek and Isaac. Their bloody bodies are in a heap on the ground. The dark figures set their sights on me. I try running, but my feet are too heavy; it’s as if they’ve turned to lead. They’re coming closer, and I can’t get away. My mouth opens in attempts to scream. I start thrashing around in hopes that my legs will move. My name is being called, but I can’t detect who or where it’s coming from. The hooded figures are getting closer as I keep trying to scream and move yet my feet are rooted in place and my mouth is latched shut.

“Jessie! I’m right here. Come on, Jess! Wake up!”

Suddenly, I’m gasping for air. As I swiftly sit up in bed, I scream, “STOP IT!” My hands clutch my chest and my fingers tangle around my shirt tightly in attempts to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. My eyes are wide with fear as I take in the darkness of my room. I breathe in heavily and try to regain my breath, but my thoughts are consumed with the images of my friends covered in blood.

My eyes wander around my room and notice how the shadows from the street lights outside are casting dancing figures on my walls. I take in a deep, jagged breath yet I can’t seem to relax. The dream was too real, and I can’t imagine my best friends getting hurt like that. The thought alone is too much to bear. A few seconds have barely passed since I jolted awake with fright. A large, warm hand takes my right hand; their thumb traces circles on the back of my hand.

A familiar voice calmly says, “I’m here. Everything is fine.”

I look to my right to see Stiles kneeling beside my bed. In the doorway, Melissa and Scott are standing with worried expressions on their faces. My breathing is still slightly irregular and my heart rate is slowing down. I’ve had nightmares since my mother died, but they’re infrequent and not all that common anymore. Stiles starts to sit down in the open space beside me, and my arms wrap tightly around his torso immediately. His arms snake around me. I feel him trace circles on my back with one hand while the other plays with my hair. For a few minutes, we sit like this.

Neither of us speaks, but we don’t have to. It’s always like this for Stiles and I: we know exactly what each other needs. Right now, I just need Stiles to hold me, to remind me that everything will be okay. A couple minutes later I look over at the clock on my bedside table to see that it’s two thirty in the morning. My breathing and heart have calmed down. I squeeze Stiles and hug him. His grip on me loosens slightly as we look at each other. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Stiles’ hand rests on my right cheek; his hand is so large that his fingers cover my ear. His other hand holds one of mine.

“Are you okay now?” Stiles asks softly.

“I am,” I whisper. “Because you’re here.”

Stiles smiles and hugs me again. Melissa enters the room with a glass of water.

“Here, Jessie,” Melissa says. “I thought you might want some water.”

“Thanks,” I say, removing my arms from around Stiles.

Melissa leaves, but not without turning around in the doorway to smile at me. Scott is standing at the foot of my bed. He runs a hand over the back of his neck.

“Sorry I woke you guys up,” I say. I hand Stiles the glass of water; he takes it and sits it on the table.

“It’s okay, Jessie,” Scott says. He yawns. “I hope everything is okay.”

I assure him that I’m fine. He says goodnight and leaves the room.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stiles asks.

I’m not sure if I do so I shrug. Stiles lies down, getting under the covers with me. I follow suit and pull the covers up. Stiles wraps his arm around me, resting his hand my hip. I snuggle into his side and rest my head on his chest. He’s silent, so I take it as a chance to speak. I tell him about my nightmare. With him tracing shapes on my arm and listening to his calm breathing, I fall asleep quickly after I’ve finished talking.

When I wake up, it’s nine o'clock on Sunday morning. The weekend is nearly over. Tomorrow I’ll be starting school again at Beacon Hills. Stiles is still sleeping beside me; he is snoring slightly. I chuckle as I get out of bed, untangling myself from his side. In the bathroom, I play some music softly as I shower. I dry my hair when I’m finished, and it’s curly like usual. At first, I didn’t think I’d enjoy having this pixie cut, but I was tired of playing it safe. Not taking risks is something I had grown used to so I was ready to do start doing the opposite. I didn’t want to get too crazy, but I wanted to try new things, including a haircut.

About six weeks before my father’s death, I took the leap of faith and got my hair cut. I had always kept my hair the same length—right below my shoulders—and with no layers. My hair naturally had curls and waves in it. When I cut it this short and realized that it was going to be this curly, I was really excited. It takes very little styling from me, which I also enjoy because I’ve never been the kind to want to do extravagant things when it comes to styling my hair. With a towel wrapped around my body, I peek out the bathroom door to see Stiles playing on his phone.

“Hey, you!” Stiles says cheerfully when he sees me peeking out the door.

“Good morning,” I reply.

Stiles covers his eyes before saying, “I’m not looking.”

I dash towards my closet, step in, and let him know he can look. Once inside my closet, I get dressed in a black pair of skinny jeans, a black shirt with thin white stripes, and my blue jean jacket. I exit my closet with my towel in hand; I hang it on the bathroom door. When I turn around, Stiles is grinning at me. I raise a brow and look at him weirdly. What’s going on with him? I look up and down my body, thinking I’ve put my outfit on wrong or there’s something on it. There’s nothing that appears out of place.

“What are you looking at?” I say a bit sarcastically. I place my hands on my hips and stand by the bed, gazing down at Stiles.

Stiles looks up at me with a sly grin on his face and says, “You of course.”

A red tint is covering my face I’m sure of it. My ears are growing hot as I blush. Stiles has complimented me before, but something about this is different. He’s never complimented me with that look on his face: a twinkle in his eye, a crooked grin, and a cheeky look on his face. I’m about to thank him when I’m interrupted by a squeal in the doorway. Stiles and I look up to see Lydia and Allison standing in the doorway.

“Jessie, we have come to kidnap you,” Lydia says. “We're going shopping!”

“Let me grab my purse,” I say.

I grab my phone that’s on my dresser. I grab my Captain America purse that's sitting on my desk chair; Stiles always jokes with me about that purse, saying Batman definitely triumphs Captain America. I follow the girls down the hall and down the stairs. Stiles follows closely behind me. He pokes me in the sides, making me jump slightly. At the bottom of the stairs, I swat his arm and pout, which makes him laugh. When we enter the living room, we see that Scott is watching television.

“Well, I see their plan has worked,” Scott says chuckling.

“Yup,” Allison says cheerfully. She smiles at me. “It’s a girls day out.”

“We’ve been ditched, Scott,” Stiles jokes, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

Stiles props his feet on the table in front of the couch and crosses his arms in front of his chest. His copper colored eyes meet mine, making me bite my lip. My heart always seems to flutter a mile a minute when he looks at me, even if it's just for a second. The smile on Stiles' face grows, and there's a spark in his eyes. What is it about me that could make him smile that brightly?

“Are you okay with them stealing her from you?” Scott teases. He punches Stiles in the side playfully and ruffles his hair.

Stiles and I both blush. I watch as Stiles runs a hand through his hair, not liking the attention. He’s so adorable, I think.

“I’ll be back later, cutie,” I say to Stiles, winking at him.

“I’ll be waiting,” Stiles replies with a cheeky grin. “I’m always waiting for you.”

The other three all glance at each other. There’s a surprised look on their faces because of our interaction. I don’t get it; Stiles and I are simply joking, like usual. Or are we? Why does it feel as though our teasing has been different lately—as if we’re flirting with one another? Lydia grins at me, obviously knowing what I’m thinking. Scott raises a brow at me to let me know he didn't miss what just happened; then he nudges Stiles in the ribs only to make Stiles' cheeks grow an even darker shade of red. Allison and Lydia loop an arm in mine, telling the boys we’ll be back later.

“Have fun, guys!” The boys say as we walk out the front door.

The three of us get in my Jeep. I turn the radio up a tad louder as I pull out of the neighborhood.

“What was that about?” Lydia says. A smirk is plastered on her face, and she's looking at me happily.

“What?” I ask, although I know what she’s talking about.

“You and Stiles were flirting! Since when!?”

I look over to see her smiling. I shrug and say, "I don't know—but I'm not complaining about it... Just so y'all know, I've got my eye on that boy."

At that, both of them cheer. Lydia squeals yet again as she poke in the sides, making me giggle. I smirk and wiggle my eyebrows.

"Damn, I knew this would happen!" Lydia exclaims.

“Get some, Jessie,” Allison mutters.

I look in my mirror to see her smiling at me from the backseat. They question me about my feelings for Stiles, so I tell them the same thing I told Scott the other night. While we’re shopping, the two of them predict how long it will take for Stiles and I to start dating. They talk about how cute the two of us, how much they think Stiles likes me (as if!), and how great of a couple we’d be. I laugh along with them, enjoying the time with my friends. I’m not used to having days like this; it’s nice to finally have some girl time.

After shopping all day, the girls and I stop at a restaurant for dinner. They’re still talking about Stiles and me.

“He’s crazy about you, you know,” Allison says. “Stiles is always joking with you, hugging you, and dying to be next to you if you happen to be the same room as him. God, Jessie, he doesn’t stop talking about you!”

I take a sip of my water before saying, “I don’t know, guys. Are you really sure? I mean Stiles and I have been best friends since we were in diapers. We’ve got a weird friendship. We always joke around, and we love being together because that’s just how things have always been.”

“Gees, Jessie,” Lydia says exasperated. “Stiles looked forward to your Skype sessions every week while you were in Atlanta. It was all he lived for. He talked about you all the time—it was like you never left. When he found out about your father’s death, he was worried like shit about you. Stiles looks at you like you’re the only thing he sees. He’s just too scared to tell you.”

“But what about you, Lydia? He’s had the biggest crush on you for years!”

“That’s because he needed to distract himself. Even when we were little, he never thought you’d like him back. Then, you were gone for a while and he figured you’d find someone in Atlanta. Stiles doubted that you’d ever actually fall for him because he’s always thought you were too good for him. Trust me, Jessie. Stiles is absolutely head over heels for you, and he just doesn’t know what to do.”

I’m not sure what to say. Stiles actually liking me the same way seems so obscure to me. What’s so special about me?

“I’m just me… Why would Stiles like me?”

“Because you’re kind,” Allison says. “You’re hilarious. I mean it! You’re always making everyone laugh. Please don’t lose your humor. We’re going to need it during pack meetings when everyone is so serious and stressed. You have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen, and you’re willing to do whatever it takes to help someone you care about. You’re smart—you’re so damn smart, Jessie! You’re honest and adorable, too. Even when you think you’re being awkward, everyone else thinks you’re cool. Don’t be so hard on yourself, girl!”

“Thank you,” I say softly, playing with my straw.

I’ve only known her for a week, and I already feel as though Allison knows me extremely well. Looking between her and Lydia, I recognize how lucky I am. I miss my father and mother terribly, but I have some pretty amazing friends and family. The three of us chat some more, talking about school and more. When we’re finished, we head back to my house. I say goodbye to of them when we return to my house. I wave to them as they drive away from my house. It’s only eight o’clock when I enter the house. Melissa is in the living room watching television. I take a seat next to her.

“How was work?” I ask her.

“It was fine,” Melissa says. “Nothing unusual happened.”

We talk some more and watch television. After an hour or so, I head upstairs to my room. I notice Scott sitting on his bed and playing on his laptop. I knock and he waves me in. I sit down next to him.

“Hey,” I say. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Scott says. “And yours?”

“It was fun.”

We’re silent for a moment.

“How do you know when you really like someone?” I say quietly. “And I mean, really really like them?”

Scott stops the YouTube video he’s watching. The look on his face lets me know he’s serious, and that he knows what I’m talking about.

“Is this about Stiles?” I nod, and he continues. “You know you really really like someone when you can’t stop thinking about them. When you still get butterflies when you catch them looking at you, even though it’s happened countless times. When you still get butterflies when you’re around them, no matter how often they’re around. When you smile just by getting a text from them saying ‘hello’.”

Scott pauses. He's staring at the wall across the room. Suddenly, I realize this conversation has led elsewhere.

“You really really like someone when absolutely hate not being able to be with be with them, even in the simplest sense of wanting to be standing next to them. When you keep thinking about if they’re thinking of you. When you all you want is them to be happy. When you want nothing but the best for them. When their happiness means more to you than your own. When you want to give them everything but knowing that they want don’t want it. When you know you can’t be with them but you see them all the time and you have to accept it…”

I stare at him with a sympathetic look. This isn’t about me and Stiles anymore, and that doesn't matter. My cousin is hurting, but I'm not so sure what I can do to help.

“I’m sorry,” Scott says. “I didn’t mean to… I just—I miss her. Jessie, I miss her like hell. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Scott, you’re doing everything you should be. She said she didn’t want to date you anymore, but Scott, that doesn’t mean you have to get over her overnight. You’ve been nothing but good to Allison, even now that you guys have broken up. You’ve respected her decision and you’ve given her the space she wants. You still care about her—you can do that, you know. Just because you’re not together as a couple doesn’t mean you can’t care.”

I take a breath and continue, “You don’t have to forget about what you had with her. Let’s face it: neither of you will forget what you shared. What you and Allison had was real and raw and uncommon. You shouldn’t forget something special. You’ll find it again, okay?”

“I’m glad your home, Jessie. Lord knows what I’d do without you here.”

“No problem, bro.” I hug him tightly.

“As far as you and Stiles go, I think it’ll work out. I really do. I’m not sure when exactly, but things will work out with you two. You’re made for each other. I can’t imagine anyone else for either of you. And you know what? I think you guys have always been meant for each other. Nothing will ever change that.”

I smile, not knowing what to say. We talk for a few more minutes before I say goodnight and head to my room. I change into my pajamas. Before crawling into bed, I grab my laptop. I scroll through some of my social media before closing it and sitting on the bedside table. My alarm is set, reminding me how I’m starting school again. What will my classes be like? Will my teachers like me? What will people think of me? How will the day go? Will I make any friends?

Fortunately, I met some of the lacrosse guys last night when Scott and Stiles had practice. I had promised to pick them up, and I had decided to arrive early. They were all friendly, especially Danny who I hope to get to know better. The coach was pretty awesome too; the guys were surprised by how well the coach and I got along. Hopefully, some of the guys will be in my classes so that I’ll at least know a familiar face besides the pack. Thinking about all this is enough to wear me out, and before long I fall fast asleep, dreaming of tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Last night as I lay in bed envisioning today, this is not what I had expected: Vivid dreams that keep him momentarily trapped in a hauntingly in-between state. Ominous hallucinations of the dead. A loss of power at the hands of overriding phasing. My three best friends are all experiencing some of the craziest things any of us have ever heard of. As they, as well as Lydia, stand around my locker, I study them carefully, looking for any sort of trouble. They all look fine—that’s for now anyway.

Looking at all of them, I feel so helpless because I’m just a mere human. I can see it in their eyes: how lost and confused and defenseless they all feel. No matter how well they think they’re hiding it, I notice it; although I’ve always been pretty perceptive, it’s become more so since my mother’s death because of the increased need to push others out and to help my father with his needs. I don’t have any special powers to stop it all from happening. All I can do is rack my brain for clues and dig for answers from what little information we have.

We’re standing around my locker. The others are talking, but I’m not really listening. Instead, I absentmindedly play with the button up that’s hanging out beneath my sweater. Since it’s my first day at school, I decided to dress in black leggings and a comfy, off-white sweater with a jean button-up shirt underneath; it’s casual, but still really nice. I bounce from heel to heel, noticing how dirty my worn out Chuck Taylors are. All I can think of is how they’re all worried although they’re trying not to show it. Stiles must notice that I’m not paying attention, that I’m lost in thought.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Stiles say softly. He wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“You say that,” I answer, leaning into him, “but whenever things started to get bad before, they got worse. Look, I hate to be the buzz kill, but we need to start figuring this shit out—and sooner rather than later. I know things are crazier than hell for you three and you feel like nothing makes sense, but I don’t want to see things get even worse for you… But mostly I don’t want you guys to get hurt—and badly.”

Their eyes are all on me for a short moment; I meet their gazes, hoping they know I mean well and that I care about them immensely. The four of them share glances, but not for long. The uncertainty and restlessness we’re all feeling is so tense it swirls in the space around us. After a few moments of silence, the bell rings, signaling us to head to our first class. Allison and Lydia say their goodbyes and make their way down the hall towards their class.

“Look, Jess,” Scott says, “we’re going to figure this out, alright? For now, just enjoy your first school day.”

I nod as we say our goodbyes. Now, it’s just Stiles and I. Stiles offers me that cheeky grin that I love, causing me to bubble with happiness. I shut my locker and turn back around to face him. Without speaking, he throws his arm around my shoulder again, and we begin to walk down the crowded hallway. We’re laughing loudly, earning stares from those nearby. Many look at us strangely, wondering how this unfamiliar girl is with Stiles. We finally arrive at our first class. I peer into the classroom, growing nervous at the sight of all the new people. Thank God Stiles and I have it together, I think.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Stiles reminds me. “You’ll have an awesome day and school will be fine.”

“School isn’t really what I’m worried about,” I say earnestly.

“Look,” Stiles sighs, “we’re going to work this out. I wish I could promise that things will be fine, but let’s face it: I really don’t know what’s going to happen. But what I do know is that we’ve got each other, which is all we need. That’s how we always get through it—sticking together and fighting together. ”

I smile and hug him tightly. Turning around, I enter the classroom and look for a familiar face. Stiles is standing behind me, waiting for me to make a move.

“Jessie!” My eyes dart to the far side of the room in the back. I smile, noticing Danny waving at me.

“Hey, you,” I say excitedly as I sit down next to him. Stiles sits behind me.

We talk for a few more moments and wait for the teacher to come and begin class. I’m so engrossed in the conversation with Danny and three theater guys I met last night that I don’t notice our teacher walk in. The door slams with a loud bang. I jump and look up towards the front of the room. I chuckle, noticing that the lacrosse coach is my teacher for this class. I had accompanied Scott and Stiles to one of their practices where I got to know the coach and Danny. They, as well as the other players, seemed sort of intimidated and annoyed by the coach a lot of the times. However, the coach and I seemed to really hit it off. I’m not sure what it is, but I guess our humor is a lot like.

“Well,” coach says, looking around, “let’s get started! I’m going to go through roll call. When I get to your name, make sure I can hear you because I’m not going to waste any time on this.”

The coach starts and halfway through he comes across my name.

“Jessie McCall?” Coach looks around the room.

“Here,” I say, raising my hand.

“Good to see you again, Miss McCall.”

“You too, Coach.”

Some of the students around the room share a look, wondering how I know the coach already. I feel their eyes on me yet I refuse to meet their glances. Danny chuckles and I glance at him. I raise a brow simply curious as to what’s going through his mind.

“They’re all mesmerized by you,” Danny whispers.

I roll my eyes and say, “There’s nothing about me that should mesmerize them. I’m not all that interesting.”

“It’s not often that we got a new student here in Beacon Hills. Besides, a few people may remember you from when you used to live here.”

I shrug, not really concerned about what anyone thinks of me. Soon Coach finishes with roll call and begins class. The class goes by moderately fast, and it’s not long before I’m off to my second class. After my second class, I walk around the halls, heading towards my locker. I finally find it. I’m going through my locker when I feel a presence next to me. Looking to my left, I notice a girl who appears to be the same year as me; she looks lost and somewhat scared as she starts to fiddle with the combination on her locker. Is she new too? I think.

I return my gaze back to my locker, trying to distract myself. I don’t want her to think I’m weird. While I don’t necessarily care what everyone thinks, I don’t want any false beliefs about me to rise before I have a chance to make a name for myself. A few seconds later I hear her sigh. I look back over at her to find that she still hasn’t gotten her locker open. Her hands are shaking slightly. Damn, I think, she must be really nervous. Knowing how it feels to be a new kid and just scared or lost in general, I speak up.

“Do you need some help?” I offer her a small smile.

“You don’t mind?” She asks tentatively.

I shake my head. She bites her lip and hands me a slip of paper. On the paper, her combination code is written in small, neat handwriting. I start to enter the combination. She mutters about how embarrassing this is, but I pretend not to hear for her sake.

“I like your handwriting,” I say, twisting the knob.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

Feeling the lock click, I grin and open her locker. “Well, here ya go!”

“Thank you.”

For a moment, we both stand there unsure of what to say or do next.

“I’m Jessie.”

“I’m Kira.”

We both continue making small talk as we go through our lockers. I’ve only been talking to Kira for a few short minutes when I’m attacked from behind. Feeling Stiles’ arms wrap around my waist causes me to laugh. I hear Kira giggle at the sight of us. Stiles buries his head into the crook of my neck, sending shivers up my spine. I bite my lip and the butterflies batter wildly around in my stomach. If only he knew how nervous he’s making me. The smile on my face is as big as ever; Kira glances at us again, smiling.

“Hey, Stiles,” I say, peering over my shoulder to look up at him. My cheeks are growing pink. Kira grins at me and gives me a look that only we understand. How can she tell that Stiles and I are only friends although I really like him more than that?

“Hey, Jess,” Stiles says. He hugs me tightly before spinning me around to face him. “How’s your day going?”

Stiles leans against the lockers, watching me as I go through mine. I tell him about my classes thus far, and Stiles talks about his as well. He eyes Kira, who hasn’t spoken at all since he arrived, and raises a brow at me. I turn to look at her when I see her shutting her locker door.

“Thanks again, Jessie,” Kira says. “I’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” I say. I wave good-bye.

I shut my locker. Stiles and I share a look, simply admiring each other. He throws an arm around my shoulders, and we begin our way down the hall towards our next class. Fortunately, Stiles, Scott, and I all have this class together, which is something I’ve been looking forward to all morning. Stiles and I make our way to the back of the room in order to sit down by Scott; Stiles is sitting next to Scott with me in the seat directly behind Stiles. A few seats behind me I notice Kira. We wave at one another and smile. The bell rings shortly and class begins.

The teacher introduces himself. Like my other teachers, he goes through roll call first, attempting to remember our names as quickly as possible. He seems a bit nervous, but I assume any first time teacher would be nervous. At one point, he mentions how his daughter attends the school as well and is looking for new friends; I hear a heavy sigh from a few seats back. I look back in time to see Kira throw her head in her arms, covering up her blushing cheeks. I bite my lip because I know how nervous and anxious she is, especially now that her father unknowingly embarrassed her. The class laughs. Scott and Stiles both look at me after they glance back at Kira. I give them a sad face before looking back at Kira once more.

Finally, the class is over and the three of us head to the cafeteria. Stiles and Scott head towards the line to get food as I take a seat next to Isaac. Allison and Lydia are sitting across from Isaac. We make small talk for a bit, avoiding similar discussions like this morning. As Scott sits at the very end of the table beside Lydia, Stiles takes a seat beside me and begins to dig into his food. I chuckle at how silly and adorable he looks; he’s always so excited about food. I’m about to ask everyone how their day is going when I notice two large figures to my right, standing at the end of the table.

I look up to see twins—good-looking ones if I may add—staring at us. Isaac stiffens beside me; I place a hand on his elbow, letting him know that I’m here and that he must calm down. Stiles drops his bag of chips and scoffs with a mouth full of food. Allison stares up at the twins, clearly not too happy to see them either. One of the twins winks at Lydia, who pretends to not see. Scott appears to be the only calm one. I look at everyone, confused by what’s going on.

“I’m glad to see that we’re a warm and welcoming group,” I say casually. I take a sip of my drink.

“Hi,” one of the twins with his eyes on me. He smiles politely. “I’m Ethan. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’m Jessie,” I reply. “I’m Scott’s cousin. I just moved back here.”

Ethan reaches out to shake my hand. I shake it, giving him a small smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see how Stiles rolls his eyes and how Isaac tenses up again. Aiden nods at me and mutters his name. Wow … okay, I think. At least Ethan was polite. I narrow my eyes, not wanting him to think I’m bothered by his comment. Aiden looks away and glances at Lydia again, but she’s still ignoring. That’s when I remember that they had been a ‘thing.’

“You’re back,” Scott says surprised.

“We figured that this town would go haywire again sooner or later,” the other says. “If so, we knew you’d need our help.”

Isaac and Stiles both reply with a quick and angry ‘no’.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on,” I admit, “or who you two are exactly, but someone better be filling me in on it soon. I don’t have time for any of this werewolf drama bullshit. ”

The twins smirk at my comment. Lydia nods her head in agreement. Stiles and Isaac are still angry. Allison and Scott share a serious look, obviously the only two ready enough to handle this maturely. I take a sip at my drink.

I look at them all. “Soooo … we’re not just going to sit here are we?”

With that, Scott starts a short conversation with the twins. After a few minutes, they’re gone, leaving us alone. I demand that they explain to me what all that was about. The five of them tell me how the twins were associated with the Deucalion I suddenly remember the brief explanation that Stiles gave me the other day, recalling all the chaos that Stiles said the Deucalion and his pack had created. Looking around the cafeteria, I catch Ethan’s eye. He smiles at me and waves. I wave back and offer him a grin. Something tells me that he’s not all that bad, like he’s really nice; his brother, Aiden, on the other hand is not. Aiden came off extremely abrasive, which I detest.

I notice how agitated all of them still seem to be so I try to strike up conversation in order to make them forget about the twins for a little bit. For a while, we all make small talk, telling each other about our days. I notice Scott’s eyes keep fleeting over my head. At first, I let it slide, thinking he’s just distracted with what’s been bothering him. However, Scott doesn’t stop glancing behind me. What is it? I finally look over my shoulder and see Kira sitting and eating alone a few tables away. I frown; I’m overcome with sadness at the sight of seeing her sitting alone.

“Stop staring,” I say, tossing a chip at him.

Scott glances at me and returns his gaze to his food. “I’m not staring.”

“Oh alright you’re simply gazing,” I chuckle, exaggerating the word ‘gazing’.

Scott rolls his eyes at me and goes back to eating his food. He doesn’t reply, making me wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Her name’s Kira by the way,” I add. “She’s really nice.”

“You know her?” Allison asks.

“Our lockers are next to each other so we’ve talked a bit.”

We talk for a few minutes more with Kira making up little of our conversation. Eventually, we finish and depart ways. The rest of the day I finish my remaining classes with both Stiles and Scott. When the final bell rings signaling school is over, the three of us quickly make our way to the parking lot. Isaac, Allison, and Lydia are waiting between Stiles’ Jeep and Scott’s motorcycle. We all agree that it might be a good idea to meet up later tonight to discuss all the weird things that are going on. We all hope to find the answer as soon as possible. In his Jeep, Stiles and I head to his house with Scott following behind on his motorcycle. We arrive just in time to see Mr. Stilinski approaching his cop car.

“Hey, Sheriff,” I say happily, grinning. He returns the smile, but it’s only a half smile. “Is everything okay?”

“I have to head to work,” Mr. Stilinski replies. We look at him concerned.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Stiles asks curiously.

“A case is getting reopened.”

“Are you serious? Why?”

“Well,” Mr. Stilinski says, peering at the three of us, “you three might come in handy more than anyone at work.”

“Us?” Scott questions.

Mr. Stilinski nods and says, “Kids, it looks like a case of the supernatural may have played a hand in a case eight years ago.”

I look quickly up at Stiles who appears surprised yet confused. He glances down at me, mirroring the same apprehensive look on my face. Is something of the supernatural taking its grip on Beacon Hills yet again?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Except for the radio, there’s no other noise in the house. I dance around the kitchen this Thursday evening, searching for something to cook for dinner. Melissa’s shift is running later than usually this Thursday night so she’s going to be a home an hour later than usual. When she called a few minutes ago, I assured her that I could start dinner. It’s five o’clock, and I figured I could manage until she got home at six. I find some pizza crusts in the cabinet along with marinara sauce.

“Pizza sounds good,” I mutter to myself.

On the counter, I set out the crust, marinara sauce, cheese, some vegetables, and pepperonis. I set the oven on the necessary temperature so that it can preheat as I make the pizzas. I’m putting the pizzas in about twenty five minutes later when I hear the front door open.

“Hey, Jessie,” Scott says. He’s standing in the entryway to the kitchen. Stiles enters a few seconds later.

“Hey, you,” Stiles says. I smile at him as I put in the second pizza. He hops up on the counter, watching me put the pizzas in.

“How was practice?” I say, shutting the oven door and standing up.

“Fine,” Scott says. “Did you cook?”

“Yeah, I did. Your mom called and said she won’t be getting off until six so said that I could make pizzas. They’ll be ready in twenty minutes or so. Go shower up.”

Scott walks away, and I hear his footsteps on the stairs. I take a seat at the kitchen table, and Stiles sits down as well. We agree that we need to start on some homework. My backpack is sitting in the chair next to me; I reach over and pull out some homework. I finish up writing an essay for my history class. Fortunately, I didn’t have any math or sociology homework tonight so I begin drawing for my visual art assignment. I’ve barely begun when the timer on the oven beeps. I pull out the two pizzas, smiling at how they’ve turned out. I cut them into pieces.

“Is it done?” Scott says excitedly as slides into the kitchen. He shakes his head, spraying water.

“Yup! Eat up!” I say, handing him a plate.

I grab some pizza and return to my seat at the table. I go back to my drawing assignment; my teacher has assigned us to draw what’s important to us. That was the extent of his guidelines so the assignment is basically up to us. Spending time with those I care about and capturing those moments is something I enjoy, which gave me an idea of what to draw. At the moment, I’m putting the final touches on a camera. The boys are eating their pizza in silence and watching me draw. Next, I draw a table, having the camera sit on the table. I’m beginning to draw Polaroid photos surrounding the camera when a car door shuts outside. Melissa’s home, I think still drawing. Then, I hear a second car door shut.

I look up at Scott and ask, “Did you hear that second car door shut?”

There’s a strange feeling my stomach. I can’t help but wonder if it’s him.

“I wonder who else is here,” Scott says. He shoots me a confused look, uncertain of who it could be.

Scott stands up and puts his plate in the sink. I stand up to grab a clean plate from the cabinet so that Melissa can eat. Scott puts my plate in the sink as well. The front door opens and Melissa appears in the entryway of the kitchen. She smiles at us, but I can see something flicker in her eyes.

“Hey,” Melissa says. There’s something off about her voice. “We have company.”

I turn around. There he is, standing next to Melissa. I was right—unfortunately. My cheerful attitude washes away; a guarded, frustrated one replaces it. My eyes lock with Scott’s father who must notice the look on my face because he immediately glances away. Although I’ve never had any personal issues or direct problems with Scott’s father, he’s not someone that I’m exactly happy to see after how he left my cousin and aunt like he did.

“Dad,” Scott says. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles moves to stand next to me while Scott takes a few steps in front of me. I feel Stiles fingers interlock with mine; I know he’s trying to comfort me because he’s the only one who knows my true feelings about Rafael.

“Hey, Scott,” Rafael replies. “Hey, Jessie… I wanted to stop by and talk.”

I nod at my uncle and mutter a hello. There’s awkwardness in the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how Stiles shifts and scratches his nose, obviously feeling the awkwardness as well.

“Uh I think I’m going to head home,” Stiles says. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly.

“See you at school,” I say. I hug him tightly.

“See you tomorrow, man,” Scott says.

Stiles says goodbye to the others before heading out. I look around the room, not sure what to do or say. Melissa sits down at the table next to her ex-husband. Scott shares a glance with me.

“C’mon,” Scott says to me, “let’s sit down.”

I follow Scott’s lead and sit between him and Melissa, facing my uncle.

“You’re back,” Scott says. “Why?”

“I wanted to visit,” Rafael says. “I thought we needed to see each other and talk.” He looks at me, telling me something with just a glance that the other two won’t understand. “We could all use some talking.”

“You’ve had years to come and talk,” I say nonchalantly.

“Jessie,” Melissa says, “let’s just talk okay?”

“I am talking. I’m just saying that there were plenty of opportunities for him to come talk. I just can’t seem to understand why he’s waited years to simply just talk.”

Rafael watches me. I look him in the eye, not faltering my glare. My uncle and I never really had a terrible relationship per say. That is until right before he walked out on my cousin and aunt. Leaving them is one thing, but it’s not all he did. Him and his brother—my father—weren’t always the closest. A couple weeks before Rafael left Beacon Hills, he got in an argument with my father at my house. He never knew I was home nor do I plan to tell him. The way he talked to my father that day still infuriates me to this day; the way he looked down on my father and treated him disgusted me.

Apparently, my father hadn’t lived up to their parents’ expectations. Unlike my uncle, he didn’t go into law enforcement nor did he practice medicine or become a lawyer like their parents had dreamed. Instead, he had studied communications at a liberal arts college; something that my grandparents had thought of as a disgrace. I never found that out for myself because my grandparents died before I was born. Straight out of college, my father began working for a growing technology firm, which later became Sony. A few days later after their argument, my uncle let it slip to me as we passed a soccer ball in his backyard that he hoped I’d follow in his footsteps rather than my father’s.

At that age, I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut, keeping the resentment to myself. I never told my father about this because I knew it would be like adding gasoline to a fire. Although it seems to last hours, my uncle and I stare at each only for a few seconds. There’s something different about him since that last time I saw him all those years ago. I guess that’s what time does to a person.

“You’re just like your father, you know,” Rafael says coolly.

I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling the bitterness inside me bubbles within me. My face is calm, but I’m sure the fury is evident in my eyes.

“How so?”

“You’re always defensive and out to make a point. It’s like you both always have something to prove. He’s just like that, and I doubt he’ll ever grow out of it.”

“I guess he won’t, considering he died two weeks ago.”

My uncle’s face falls. I raise my brows out at him, begging him to continue. The rage is bubbling within me. Melissa and Scott watch the two of us carefully, not sure what’s going to happen next. Melissa is about to say something, but my uncle beats her.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I forgot.”

“Forgot,” I scoff. “You forgot about your own brother’s death?”

“Jessie,” Scott says, resting a hand on my arm. “Calm down.”

There’s a silence yet again. I sit back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. Instead of looking at the others, I stare at the figurine in the center of the table.

“Why’d you come to talk, Dad?” Scott says. “What’s up?”

My gaze rests on my uncle again. I notice how he looks up at Scott; maybe he’s nervous?

“There’s a bunch of stuff going on in Beacon Hills,” Rafael answers, “and my department has sent me here to figure out what’s going on. There’s been a lot of suspicious activity happening in the last several months. I’m here to figure out what that is and what the local police are doing about it.”

Melissa, Scott, and I share a quick look. We all know that he’s talking about the supernatural although he isn’t aware.

“Things are just fine here,” Melissa says.

“Yeah, nothing’s wrong,” Scott adds.

“That may be what you all think,” my uncle says, “but there’s been a few suspicious deaths and other strange activity that’s got this town going crazy. I’m not sure what the police are doing here, but things need to get under control. This is getting ridiculous.”

Boyd, Erica, Kate Argent, and Mrs. Argent are four deaths that I can name. Scott and Isaac being turned into a werewolf is some suspicious activity. Jackson changing into a weird reptile of sorts and killing people, the Deucalion threatening to harm the town, and the recent cases of the supernatural are some strange occurrences. The way my uncle talks about the police it seems as if he’s disappointed in how they’re performing; little does he know that there’s not much that they can really do. Is Rafael going to do something that could affect the way that Beacon Hills police handle things? What’s he got up his sleeve?

“Have you spoken with Stiles’ dad?” I ask. I’m curious to see how he’ll interact with the sheriff.

“Not yet,” my uncle says. “You can guarantee I’ll be having a serious talk with the sheriff.”

“The sheriff is doing the best he can,” Scott says, defending Mr. Stilinski.

Rafael shrugs. “Perhaps he is, but I’m not so sure. We’ll see…”

That’s it. The way he talks about the sheriff—someone I really care about and someone who means a great deal to Stiles—is the final straw for me.

“Look,” I say sternly, “the police have been doing an excellent job. The sheriff is fantastic. He’s constantly putting in all his energy to solve every case that appears on his desk. The Beacon Hills police are working spectacularly. Things are just fine without you prying in.”

“Jessie,” Melissa says. She sounds calm, but the look in her eyes tells me that I need to stay calm. “Calm down okay? He’s just here doing his job.”

I nod, letting her know I understand. I look back at my uncle, and for a moment, we simply stare at each other.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Rafael says. “I’ll figure things out. Nothing bad is going to happen in Beacon Hills while I’m here—”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I say quietly. “I’m worried about what you’re going to do here at this house. Are you just going to sweep in and act like everything is just dandy before running out as quickly as you came? Again?”

Rafael glances away from me, obviously getting the hint that I just called him out.

“Jessie,” Melissa says sternly, “why don’t you go upstairs and do your homework? We can settle the rest of this on our own.”

I grab my backpack and put my stuff that’s sitting on the table back in it.

“Sorry,” I mumble, looking between Melissa and Scott.

With that said, I leave the kitchen to do my homework in my room. I turn my music in hopes of drowning out their voices in case I can hear them from my room. Sitting on my bed, I add the finishing touches to my drawing. I place it back in my bag a few minutes later after I’m finished. I want Scott to have a better relationship with his father, and I want Melissa and my uncle to have a better relationship—not necessarily a romantic one—for Scott’s sake. And here I am screwing it up by letting my anger get the best of me. Instead of letting my uncle speak, I got angry and didn’t give him the chance to talk things out with his son.

Letting out a sigh, I fall back onto my bed. Luckily, I’m finished with my homework. Isaac and I managed to finish our math during study hour. My phone beeps, and I reach over to my bedside table to get it. I smile when I see it’s a text from Stiles who’s asking me to go get ice cream. After what happened at dinner, I figure I better ask permission. I retreat downstairs to find Melissa in order to ask. In the kitchen, I see she’s eating pizza. She looks up when I enter.

“I’m really sorry about earlier,” I say, sitting down next to her. “I just—I don’t know. I was angry and let my anger get the best of me. I really want things to get better for the three of you. I shouldn’t have interfered. I’m sorry, Melissa.”

Melissa gives me a small smile.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she says I know things have been difficult for you lately. It must have been really weird to see your uncle here without a heads up that he was in town. I know you have mixed feelings about him, but I didn’t know they were that bad. Sweetie, you can talk to me about anything, even that.”

“Thanks.” I pause. “Is it okay if I go get ice cream with Stiles?”

“Of course.”

I call Stiles to tell him I can go. He says that he’ll be here in five minutes. I get up and scoot my chair in. I’m almost out of the kitchen when Melissa speaks.

“When do you think you two will get together?”

“What?” I ask perplexed. Is she asking me when Stiles and I will start dating?

“You know what I mean. You two are made for each other. I’ve been waiting years for you and Stiles to wind up together. We’ve all been thinking it and hoping it’ll happen.”

I laugh and shrug. “I don’t know… I doubt he really sees me like that.”

“He does, Jessie,” Melissa says, taking a sip of her drink. “You’re all Stiles sees. Every time that boy looks at you it’s as though he’s seeing you for the first time—and it’s been like that for years. It’s like you’re his whole world. He’s just too scared to tell you, Jess. Besides, I think you’re just as scared of your feelings as he is, which is why you can’t see how much he likes you.”

I blush, not sure what to say. She says goodbye. I walk out the front door and wait on the front porch. A few minutes later a familiar blue Jeep is pulling into the driveway. Stiles whistles and I blush. I jog over to his Jeep and get in. Maroon 5 is playing softly on the radio; I compliment him on the music. Although I just saw him an hour so ago, the two of us begin to talk like we haven’t seen each other in ages.

With Stiles, everything is so easy and natural. We’re barely out the driveway and he’s already making me laugh. There’s nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.1 I recover from my fit of laughter and glance over at Stiles. He’s not looking at me; he’s talking up a storm, and his eyes are on the road.

I smile, feeling lucky to have someone whom can I be so natural with. Stiles catches me looking at him. He winks at me, and I blush a deep shade of red. Stiles reaches over and ruffles my hair with one hand. I laugh, pushing his hand away and swearing at him. Stiles roars with laughter. The way he holds his stomach when he laughs, the way his eyes twinkle and crinkle at the edges, and the way his smile covers his entire face makes me recall what Melissa said. Is it possible that Stiles sees me the same way I see him? Are we really meant for each other?

Index  
1 - Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

The next night I find myself in the living room tucked under a blanket on the couch, not paying much attention to the film playing on the television. The crackling sound of lighting and booming sound of thunder rocket through me. I curl the covers up under my chin, sighing and cringing. Normally, I wouldn’t be afraid of thunderstorms, but tonight I’m alone, thinking of all the things that could go wrong. The werewolves and the others were all out on a mission tonight. Why couldn’t one of them have stayed with me?

I know they had to go, but I hate being alone and not knowing what’s going on. Something terrible could happen and I won't know until it's too late. I'm already on edge after last night's encounter with my uncle. It’s Friday, and I’ve only been here a week. I thought I was going to get to spend another Friday night with the gang like we did last Friday night when I flew into Beacon Hills, but normal nights in this town are few and far between.

The pack is out looking for Malia, who everyone thought was missing for years (or worse: dead). No one understands what’s going on or if they’ll find her. When Sheriff Stilinski informed us this afternoon that he was reopening the case, we had all returned to Derek’s place to discuss everything and to construct a plan of what to do. Once we had developed a plan, it was late and we were running out of time. I had stood back hesitantly while the wolves huddled together, Allison got her gear together, and Lydia and Stiles talked.

What was I supposed to do? I had been given practically no instruction of what to do; it had taken me no time to realize that it was because they didn’t want me to come along. Poor little Jessie wouldn’t be able to defend herself. Part of me understood that, and I didn’t want to get in the way. However, it’s possible I could still be useful. Stiles, Lydia, and Allison always get to tag along; the three of them always turn out to be useful, even though they’re not werewolves.

But here I am now at midnight alone and worried. Scott’s mom is on duty and won’t be back for a few more hours. Scott had simply told me that he didn’t want me to get hurt, which is why he wanted me to stay home. Surprisingly, Stiles seemed more intent on keeping me home; in a stern and somewhat strange tone, he repeatedly told me that I was to stay in the house and not set so much as a toe out the door. I appreciated his concern, but it made me wonder why he was being so pushy and concerned. Stiles’ desire to protect me seemed to be more than the typical friendship concern.

I groan as thunder continues to roll and lighting lights up the living room. What are they doing right now? I wonder to myself. In that moment, there’s pounding on the door. The covers land in a heap on the floor, and I’m standing on my feet within seconds. My heart is hammering at the rate of a hummingbird’s. I gulp and stare at the door as the poundings stops. Is it the others or one of the strange werewolves coming for me? Somehow I manage to pick up my heavy feet and tiptoe towards the door.

“Shit,” I mutter, peering through the peephole.

I unlock the door hastily and swing it open. A soaking Stiles is standing in front of me. For a split second, I stare at him shocked. Why isn’t he out searching with others? I wonder. Water is dripping down his cheeks and some raindrops are resting on his eyelashes. His hair is soaked and some of it is hanging on his forehead. All of his clothes are drenched, and I’d bet anything he’s wet to the bone. From his spot on the front porch, Stiles is watching me silently, not speaking, as his eyes don’t leave mine. I soon snap out of it and grab his hand, pulling him inside; his hand is shaking, and that’s when I notice exactly how cold he is from the rain.

“Stiles, what the hell is going on?” I ask, looking him up and down as he shivers.

Stiles takes a deep breath and says, “I felt like such an asshole for being so hard on you when I told you to stay home. Not knowing what’s going on sucks—I hate it myself. You’re so new to all of this, and it’s probably ridiculously scary for you. God, I can’t believe I was so hard on you earlier! And fuck I left you all alone! Man, I can be such a dick! I just—I’m so sorry, Jess.”

Stiles pauses, and I watch as he runs a shaky hand through his hair before resting it on the nape of his neck. His eyes are full of frustration at himself and sympathy for me; he rocks back and forth on his heels. Seeing the anger he has for himself makes me feel bad. I hate seeing him so angry and upset. My heart melts at his words because I can see the sincerity in his chocolate brown eyes. I know he was only looking out for me when he ordered me to remain at home. I grin up at him, resulting in a small smile to appear on his shivering face.

“C’mon,” I say and take his hand, “let’s get you some dry clothes.”

I lead him up the stairs to Scott’s room. After a few seconds, I thought Stiles would let go of my hand, but instead he tangles our fingers and only holds my hand tighter. The heat rises on my cheeks, and I become nervous as a result of my best friend. I let my bangs fall around my face and do my best to not let Stiles see my embarrassment. Once in Scott’s room, I reluctantly release his hand and begin digging through Scott’s dresser. I throw a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt at Stiles. Stiles beams at me, making my heart flutter. Thank the Lord he’s not a wolf, I think.

“Thanks, Jess,” Stiles says warmly.

“I’ll get you a towel,” I stutter, exiting the room.

I take him the towel and go downstairs. In the kitchen, I rummage through the cabinets and try to find some hot chocolate to make. Now that Stiles is here, I’m not as scared so I let my guard down. I’m not really paying attention to anything else, which is why I jump slightly when Stiles snakes his arms around me. I swear under my breath, making Stiles chuckle. He rests his head on my shoulders, watching me quietly. His hair isn’t dripping anymore, but it’s still wet and cool against my neck. Throughout our teenage years, he’s done this often and neither of us has seemed to mind. I unwrap myself from his arms and place one of the cups in the microwave.

“Where are the others?” I ask jumping up on the counter.

“They’re still out there searching for Malia,” Stiles says stands in front of me.

“So you just left them to come back here?”

“Well, I felt bad because I knew you were kind of angry. I could see it in your eyes that you were pissed because we left you alone when all you want do to help us. And I could see the slight case of fear in your eyes at the thought of being alone, no matter how well you hid it from the others. I didn’t want you to be mad at me and I could tell you sort of were earlier. Plus, I figured you’d want some company. It’s the least I could do for you, especially after I was so stern with you at Derek’s loft.”

I cross my arms and sigh; I'm lonely, not angry.

“Stiles, I’m not mad at you," I say earnestly. "You know that, right? I know you wanted to protect me. I know you made me stay here because you thought it was the right thing to do. It sucked being here alone, but you’re here now so that’s what matters. No matter what, I could never be mad at you—well, at least not for long. You’re my best friend, Stiles. Plus, those puppy dog brown eyes get me all the time.”

Stiles smiles and starts to blush; he glances down at his feet in attempts to hide it from me. Why is he so adorable? Will he ever know how everything he does—even the little things—makes my heart melt? Stiles steps forward and closes the between us; one of his hands rests on my knee while the other reaches forward to pull my arms apart. He smiles, and I can’t help but grin back. Stiles wraps his arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. My arms wrap around his torso just as his head rests in the crook of my neck. I bury my head in his chest and breathe in his familiar scent. I readjust my arms and wrap them around his neck, playing with the hair that gathers at the nape of his neck.

“Sorry that I made you stay alone. I’ll stay here with you for the rest of the night.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, tightening my grip around him.

We stand like this for a few moments. With his arms around me tightly, I feel warm despite how his hair is cool against my neck. I always feel happy and warm with Stiles. It’s like I’m at home when he’s around; in his arms, everything is perfect—even if it’s only for a moment. The microwave beeps, ending our hug and momentary silence. I take out the cup and try to hand it to Stiles, but he declines.

“You can have that one,” Stiles says. He takes the other cup and places it in the microwave in order to heat it up.

Once his is finished, we return to the living room and take our seats on the couch. We laugh and talk for a while. It’s moments like these that remind me how incredibly blessed I am. To have people who care so much for me and go out of their way to be there for me means the world to me. Thirty minutes later at a little after one o'clock I find myself yawning.

“Tired?” Stiles asks, taking my empty cup away from me. I nod.

Stiles sits our cups on the table in front of us. At the moment, an unsuspected crackle of thunder booms, causing me to jump slightly. Why I’m still jumpy I’m not so sure; I normally don’t get scared of thunderstorms. I’m tired and dying to go to sleep yet I don’t want to stop talking with Stiles, even if it’s just for another hour. Stiles hands me the blanket that’s sitting next to him. I curl up under it with my knees tucked up under my chin.

“Well, I guess I can sleep in Scott’s room,” Stiles mumbles, standing up. He glances down at me.

“Stiles,” I say slowly, “will you stay down here with me?”

Stiles hesitates for a moment. I can tell he’s contemplating what to do. I can tell he wants to stay down here with me, but not give the wrong impression to the others if they come here while we’re sleeping. Stiles must notice the pleading in my eyes because he gives in. I lay down, rest my head on the pillow, and scoot over to make room for Stiles. Stiles follows suit and lies down next to me. He wraps an arm around me and places his hand on my hip. I curl into his side and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Can I ask you something real quick?” Stiles asks softly. I mutter a ‘yes’. “So have you ever felt something and not known how to describe it? Been at a loss for words and sure that there’s no way to explain exactly what you’re feeling?”

“Yeah,” I say, thinking of my feelings for him.

“It’s just that … there’s a new sort of connection I feel for someone. It’s weird in the sense that I don’t know how to describe it—but it doesn’t really feel weird. It feels like I’ve been missing out on this person my whole life, even though they’ve been there all along. It’s like seeing them in a new light. It’s so new that I have no clue what to do.”

At first, I don’t say anything. Could he mean Lydia? He’s confided in me about his feelings for Lydia before so I’m not sure why he’s bringing it up again and especially now. But Stiles said he’s seeing this person differently. Is he talking about someone else?

“This is easier said than done, Stiles,” I say quietly, “but you should tell her how you feel. Don’t worry about having to do it some fancy or adorable way. If she really likes you the same way, she’d like it if you simply told her how you felt. Doing it an adorable way would be cute, but you shouldn’t have to do it that way. And you shouldn’t have to because either way you do it, she’ll just be happy that you told her.”

Stiles doesn’t speak at first. His breathing is slow and steady, making me more tired and relaxed. I feel his hand begin to trace circles on my arm; I can’t help but grin as the blush covers my cheeks. Although it’s dark and he probably can’t see my face, I bury my face into Stiles’ chest instinctively, attempting to hide. All I can think about is who this mysterious girl is. I’m happy for Stiles because he deserves to be happy and find someone special. However, I can’t help but feel sad because I can’t ever see him liking me more than a friend. Stiles playing with my hair and tracing shapes on my arm causes me to fall asleep rather quickly.

A bang echoes in the kitchen causing Stiles and I to wake up. Stiles shifts and stretches on the couch as he looks around wildly. Our legs are intertwined and our arms are still glued to one another. His grip around my waist tightens, causing me to be more on top of him. I lift my head up and look over at him. Stiles seems to be just as confused (and slightly scared) as I am. I whisper at him to hand me my phone. I check my phone and see that it’s six o'clock in the morning. That’s when we start to hear whispers coming from the kitchen.

“It’s Scott and Isaac,” I mumble, crawling over Stiles to go see what’s wrong.

Upon entering the kitchen, I see a chair in the floor. I hop onto the counter and begin to peel a banana.

“What the hell did y’all do?” I ask chuckling.

“Isaac tripped,” Scott says smiling. “Sorry we woke you. We tried to be quiet.”

“It’s fine. Did you find Malia?”

“No,” Isaac sighs, resting his face in the palm of his hand.

“Finding her is going to be a lot harder than any of us thought,” Scott adds. “The sheriff is going to let me sneak into the house to get some of her scent to see if that’ll help.”

“Awesome!” Stiles says and takes a seat at the table. “I’ll come with you.”

We’re all silent for a few minutes. Exhaustion is getting the best of us, but we all know that we’re not quite finished with this round of the supernatural.

“Am I the only who feels as though shit is just getting started?” I ask quietly. “I have this feeling in my gut that things are going to keep getting worse.”

“As long as we don’t die,” Isaac says, “this is gonna be one hell of a story.”1

With that, we all return to our respective bedrooms to go to sleep. Stiles returns to his spot on the couch. I stand in the entryway towards the stairs, watching Stiles crawl under the covers. He must notice me watching him because he looks up after a moment. I glance down at my feet when he meets my eye. When I look back up at him, Stiles is grinning cheekily; he winks at me, which makes me blush. I say goodnight and retreat towards my room.

Once in my room, I ponder about what just happened. Is something growing between Stiles and I? Are things changing for us? I don't think about this much for long because I quickly drift off to sleep.

Index  
1 - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Everything seems to be sparkling as I close my eyes, taking in the warmth. For this October day, it was rather cooler than usual in Beacon Hills; fall is definitely on its way. There’s not a cloud in the sky and a light breeze scatters the leaves around the porch. My battered copy of The Hobbit rests in my lap as I read it yet again. Despite that, I’m just engrossed in the novel as I was the first time. I’m so immersed in the imaginative land of hobbits, elves, and wizards that I’m oblivious to the figure that takes a seat next to me on the swing. I eventually look up to find Stiles smiling at me.

“Hey,” I say, closing the book, “how long have you been here?”

He smiles and says, “About five minutes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You looked so interested and happy reading so I didn’t want to bother you.”

I grin and glance away. Not knowing what to say or do, I tug absentmindedly at the sleeves of the sweatshirt I’m wearing. I took the Beacon Hills lacrosse sweatshirt from Stiles two days ago; we had been sitting in his yard when he grabbed the water hose and sprayed me with water. Next thing we knew, we were having a water fight, leaving our clothes drenched and our hair plastered to our foreheads.

Stiles must notice what I’m doing because he wraps an arm around my shoulders and plays with the part of the shirt that rests on my left shoulder. With his other hand, he brushes some hair out of my face. I gulp nervously; the butterflies flutter around my stomach.

“It suits you, you know,” Stiles says casually. “It looks far better on you than me…” He chuckles at my pink cheeks. “So there’s a bonfire tonight. Someone decided to throw a party. I figured since you didn’t have much of a chance to met anyone this week you might want to go and meet a few people. So what do you say—do you want to go?”

“Yeah, that sounds awesome!” I say excitedly.

Stiles looks at me puzzled. His brow scrunches. “You think so?”

I smile, anticipating meeting my new classmates. Surprisingly, I’m more excited than nervous. How is that possible? Last week I couldn’t bear to meet Allison and Isaac; however, I quickly discovered that I shouldn’t be nervous because they’re both extremely kind and outgoing. I glance at my phone, realizing that it’s five o'clock. Stiles and I managed to grow even closer over the last week, which I find surprising considering how close we already were.

“Should I not be excited? Because I actually think it sounds fun.”

“Really? What happened to the girl who couldn’t bear to meet just Allison and Isaac a few days ago? Now, you’re telling me that you’re ready to meet dozens more tonight all at once… I just want to make sure you’re really ok with going.”

“I’m sure! I really want to meet more people. I mean, I’ll have you and the other four. Besides, it’s not like I have to become best friends with anyone tonight. I just have to meet them.”

“You’re right. You’ll be fine.”

I check the time on my phone to realize that it’s already five o'clock. Until now, I hadn’t realized how hungry I had become.

“Damn, I’m starving,” Stiles mutters. He rubs his stomach.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” I say. “I’m hungry too.”

At the mention of dinner, Stiles jumps out of the swing and begins to walk off the front porch. I giggle at the sight of him.

“Whoa, thanks for waiting,” I say grinning.

Stiles turns around; he smiles at me. I tell him I just need to take my book inside and change. I quickly change into black leggings and a red baseball t-shirt. I brush my teeth and glance at myself in the mirror; finally I head back downstairs. As I head down the stairs, I grab my red high-top Converse at the bottom. When I exit the house, Stiles is sitting on the step of the porch.

“You look very nice,” Stiles says, standing up.

I blush. “Thanks.”

We hop in his Jeep and agree to eat at the pizza parlor. Stiles thought it’d be awesome to end the summer at pizza parlor since we started the summer there. At the pizza parlor, Stiles and I share some pizza. For two hours the two of us talk and goof around like we have been since we were little. Spending some time with Stiles, my best friend, is the best way I can think of ending the summer before going to the bonfire tonight. I’m laughing at a joke Stiles just said when my phone begins to ring. Scott’s name and picture shows up on the screen. I answer and talk to Scott for a few moments.

Once the conversation is over, I hang up and look up at Stiles. Stiles raising a brow, as if he’s asking me what Scott said.

“He’s wanting to know when we’re leaving here,” I say, “because he wants to get ice cream before we go to the bonfire.”

“Well, my lady,” Stiles says in a funny accent, “we best better be off then.”

I laugh and follow him out the door. We run back to my house in order to pick him up before going to the ice cream shop. When we arrive, Isaac, Allison, and Lydia are already there. We sit outside the ice cream shop on one of the benches, talking as we eat our ice cream. We decide to leave around half an hour later and go to the bonfire. It’s not long before we arrive at the field where the bonfire is being held.

“Let’s get down with our bad selves,” Stiles say as we get out of his Jeep.

I giggle and walk towards a small group of teenagers who are currently the ones here at that moment. The group may be small, but it seems to be growing ever so slightly as the minutes pass by. After about two hours, the field is packed with the teens of Beacon Hills. I’ve never really done anything like this before. Sure, I’ve been to parties, but none of the ones I attended were extreme and crazy by any means.

The parties I’ve been to were nothing like I had seen in movies or heard about on TV, although that’s not to say they weren’t far from an ordinary high school party. I just never really got into that stuff, I guess; I wasn’t afraid to be different than everyone else and not follow the crowd. I did my own thing, even at the parties I attended. This party isn’t too bad because the different cliques have separated themselves and dispersed across the field.

Throughout the night, Scott and Stiles take me around to every group, introducing me to a few people that they know in each one. They’re all friendly and make me feel welcome. At the moment, I’m talking with three people in particular (who Stiles described in a whisper to me as cool yet quirky) that remind me of some of my theater friends I had before I returned to Beacon Hills. The four of us hit it off extremely well. Twenty minutes later, it takes everything in Scott and Stiles to break me away to talk to other people. I swap numbers with the three guys before going off with Scott and Stiles.

While a lot of the people are welcoming, some do shoot me uncomfortable glances during the course of the night. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m the new kid and they’re trying to figure me out or if it’s because they’re being rude. Neither are things I want, but mostly I hope it’s not the latter. For the most part of the night, we hang out with the lacrosse team who welcome me as their own immediately.

All of the lacrosse guys are friendly and humorous, which is perhaps why I get along so well with them. I talk about literature with a couple of them and learn that we share oddly similar preferences in authors and novels. With a few others, I chat about music, discovering that our music tastes are a lot alike. They all seem to love that I really enjoy sports. We all talk about our summers and excitement for the upcoming school year. After a few moments, I’m goofing around right along with them. We’re all cracking jokes left and right.

As I laugh at something Danny said, I look at Stiles, who’s standing across from me in the small crowd that we’ve created. He’s watching me closely with a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. I’m not sure if it’s because he heard Danny’s joke or if it’s because of me—or why exactly he's smirking. Stiles catches me watching him and quickly looks down at his feet. Even though I’m a few yards away, I notice how his cheeks begin to turn a light shade of pink, making me smile at his adorableness. Stiles is unable to look away for too long, and his eyes are looking back at me after a few short moments.

“So,” Danny whispers quiet enough just for me to hear, “when is he going to ask you out?”

“What?” I ask surprised.

Danny and I have connected quickly in the past couple of hours, but I’m still amazed by how easily he can read me—and Stiles’ behavior towards me as well. Is it possible Danny can see something between Stiles and I that I don’t? I wonder.

“C’mon, Jessie, you know what I mean. Stiles is clearly head over heels for you, and you obviously have a thing for him. When are you guys going to start dating?”

I sneak another glance at Stiles, who’s talking with Scott and Isaac. Lydia is on my other side, and she’s watching Danny and I closely. Although she probably can’t hear everything we’re saying because we’re whispering, Lydia knows my body language well enough to have an idea.

As I sneak a glance at Lydia, I say, “Well, I’m not so sure I’m who he’s looking at.”

“Shut up, Jess,” Lydia intervenes. “Stiles likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone else.” I raise a brow, signifying that I mean her. “And that includes me, okay? He’s had a crush on you for years!”

Danny nods in agreement. I raise a brow, unsure of whether or not they’re right.

“Go over there and be with him instead of me,” Danny says encouragingly.

Danny places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me forward playfully. Laughing, I say goodbye to Danny and walk a few feet over to the guys. Stiles sees me approaching, and his eyes light up as he greets me. Scott and Isaac say hello, too.

“How’s it going, cuz?” Scott asks me.

“Great!” I say excitedly. “I’m loving it here.”

Scott smiles and wraps me in one of his bear hugs.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Scott whispers in my ear.

I offer him a small smile as he releases me. The three of us start talking and laughing at each other’s jokes. A few short moments into the conversation I feel Stiles wrap an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I chuckle and wrap my arms around his torso to hug him tightly. His arm leaves my shoulders, and one of his fingers loops around a belt loop on the hip closest to him to pull me closer to him. I giggle as Stiles smiles cheekily while he wraps an around me and rests his hand on my hip. It’s not something that bothers me per say because it’s something he’s done countless times over the years; it’s become part of our friendship.

I look at Danny to find him giving me an “I-told-you-so” look that makes me blush. What does surprise me, however, is that Stiles keeps it there. While I continue to talk to my cousin and our two close friends, I can tell that Stiles has no intentions of removing his arm from around me. All the while, the butterflies are swarming around in my stomach. Stiles begins to tell a story of when we were seven-years-old and I accidentally got us into big trouble. We were playing outside the police station with my Australian Shepherd named Winston while we waited for the sheriff to finish delivering paperwork. I was chasing Winston when I slipped and rolled down a hill.

At the bottom of the hill, I landed in a shallow pool of mud that had collected there because it had been pouring for nearly two days straight. Winston followed closely behind to ensure my safety, rolling around next to me when he reached the bottom. Stiles and I guided Winston back up the hill to wait on the stairs outside the main door to the police station. A few moments later the sheriff walked out; he held the door open with his hand and looked back over his shoulder, hollering one last request at someone. Winston dashed between the sheriff’s legs and ran down the long hall of the station. A new and young deputy who got covered in mud as he wrapped his arm’s around Winston’s torso to keep him from escaping. It’s safe to say that no one at the police station was thrilled to have a muddy dog running around.

Laughing along at the memory with the three boys, I playfully punch Stiles in the side, but I quickly wrap my arms around his torso to hug him. Stiles offers me that goofy grin I love. I loosen my grip around him, but Stiles pulls me closer into his side, refusing to let me be too far away from him.

“Hey, Stiles!”

The four of us look up to see some of the lacrosse guys a few feet away. One of them, a guy named Josh, appears to be the one who spoke.

“What’s up?” Stiles asks. Our arms still wrapped around each other.

“C’mon, man, why don’t you just ask her out already?” Josh asks.

Stiles and I let go of each other, not liking the sudden attention. Everyone that’s a part of the small lax group looks at Stiles and I. I glance down at my feet for a quick moment before gazing up at Stiles again. He’s blushing a deep shade of red and struggling to look at me.

“We can all tell you like her, dude,” another guy chimes in.

Some of the others laugh, whistling and yelling at Stiles to be a man. They all joke and chant—“ask her out, dude!” and “just kiss her already!” A smile starts to tug at the corners of my lip, knowing that they’re all simply kidding. What they don’t know is that I wish Stiles would. I bite my lip and fight it because I can see how much it’s bothering Stiles. Watching Stiles blush makes me feel embarrassed for him because I know how he doesn’t like to be the center of attention. I place a hand on his elbow, which causes Stiles to turn his attention to me.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” I mutter. I trail my hand down his arm and wrap a finger around his pinky. “They’re just messing with you, ya know.”

“No, Jess,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “They’re right. I’m crazy about you. Man, I’m fucking crazy about you! You’re absolutely wonderful in every way. You make me nervous just by being you. I love being around you in the simplest of terms. When you’re in the same room, I want to be standing next you. I love just spending time with you. You’re an awesome friend, but I want to be with you. And I understand that you probably think I’m losing my mind, but, Jessie, I really like you. A lot. I’ve just been too much of an idiot for way too long to tell you—well, until now of course.”

My mouth falls open as I stutter. I can’t find the words to say. Stiles takes both of my hands in his. Our palms are facing each other, and I notice how his fingers are longer than mine. Stiles curls the tips of his fingers over mine. My eyes rest on our hands that are placed between us, admiring how they seem perfect together.

“Jessie, will you be my girlfriend?” Stiles asks after a moment.

Although he’s smiling, I can see the hesitance in his eyes. I’m too excited to speak so I nod as the grin on my face widens. Before Stiles has much time to register my response, I quickly close the gap between us and hug him tightly. Stiles snakes his arms around my waist, pulling me closely to him; he moves left to right, making us wobble to and fro. Scott and Isaac cheer along with the other guys. I hear Allison and Lydia squeal nearby. Stiles tucks his head in the crook of his neck. I hear him chuckle and I giggle too. We both pull back and laugh louder.

“About damn time!” Scott acclaims, patting Stiles on the shoulder.

I bite my lip before saying to Stiles, “You’re the best, you know.”

“All I know is,” Stiles says, “that I’ve finally got everything I’ll ever need.”

I reach up and ruffle his hair; I lean up and kiss his cheek, causing him to flush a light shade of pink. Stiles releases me from his tight grip only to keep one hand on the small of my back. Allison and Lydia run over to congratulate us, giggling and squealing loudly. For a few more minutes, we all stand around and talk. I see Scott pull out his phone to check the time.

“So, are y’all ready to go?” Scott asks Stiles and I. “It’s eleven and we have school in the morning. Mom said to be home before midnight.”

Stiles and I agree. I say goodbye to Isaac, Allison, and Lydia, hugging them all goodbye. We say our goodbyes to the lacrosse guys and slowly make our way to Stiles’ Jeep. Stiles hand is tangled with mine as he traces circles with his thumb on the back of my hand.

“Carry me?” I ask.

Stiles offers me half a grin and nods his head. I hop on his back, draping my arms around his neck as his hands hold my knees. He let’s me down when we arrive at his Jeep, allowing me to crawl into the back seat. Once we arrive home, Stiles walks us—well, me—to the door. Scott and Stiles say their goodbyes before Scott enters the house. I smile up at Stiles who grins at me. Stiles takes both of my hands in his, interlocking our fingers. He holds our hands between us; I look down at them, causing my smile to grow.

“Good night, Stiles,” I say.

“Good night, Jess,” Stiles says.

I can tell he’s nervous and debating something in his head. To kiss me? I’m not sure. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“See ya tomorrow, cutie,” I say, opening the door.

Stiles doesn’t move at all as I enter the doorway. I watch as he looks at me. There’s a glimmer in his chocolate brown eyes and a soft pink tint on his cheeks. A smile is on face and his dimples are popping. Although Stiles doesn’t speak, the look on his face says it all: he’s beyond ecstatic to finally call me his.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Sitting on the sofa the next afternoon, I look up at my cousin confused as hell. After a great time last night—you know, I’m finally dating my best friend—Scott decides to drop some absurd news on us. It’s the twins: the ex-alphas; the guys who killed Boyd and Erica; the two that everyone seems to be annoyed by; the ones who always seem to start trouble. Scott just told Stiles and I that he needs the twins back.

Next to me on the sofa, Stiles is flipping his shit. I sit my elbows on my knees and rest my head in my hands. I close my eyes, thinking about what Scott just told us. It’s difficult for me to understand why Scott wants the twins’ help or why they’d even agree to help us. Ethan is a good guy, and we’re becoming friends so I’m fine with him being around more. Aiden isn’t someone I’m very fond of, which is why I might be so hesitant. Next to me, Stiles is still talking rapidly and moving his hands wildly; he’s obviously frustrated and confused.

Looking up, I notice how calm Scott is despite the fact that Stiles isn’t. I reacted shocked at first, but only for a brief moment. Now, I’m just very confused as I silently try to understand where my cousin is coming from. Stiles sighs heavily, and he lets his head fall back against the sofa. For the first time in about ten minutes, Stiles is quiet. I can finally think straight without having to block Stiles out.

Running a hand through my hair, I glance at Stiles who looks back at me with an exhausted look. Then, I look up at Scott; Scott stares back at me, who silently pleads with me to agree to this. I bite my lip and rest my hand on the back of my neck. Again I start to rethink everything. From what everyone’s told me, it sounds like the twins are no good—nothing but trouble. If that’s the case, then why is that we really need their help?

“You really want their help?” I ask, staring at Scott with shock. “After everything you just told me about them, I can’t believe you really want them back!”

“Me neither,” Stiles groans and shakes his head.

Stiles props his feet on the coffee table, relaxing on the couch. I’m pacing around the room as Scott stands on the other side of the living room. The fact that we have to find Malia and make her change back to human is enough to handle, but knowing that Scott wants the crazy, evil twins back is enough to make me on edge.

“We need them, Jessie,” Scott says. “With everything that’s been happening, we could use all the help we can get. We need help finding Malia. Plus who knows if things will get worse! We need them!”

I plop down next to Stiles. I heave a loud sigh, not sure of what to say or do. I run a hand through my short curly locks (that are in desperate need of a trim) before crossing my arms across my chest. Scott is right. We need all the help we can get—and I’m not sure that’ll even be enough. Stiles and I share a long look.

“He’s right, you know,” I say, not taking my eyes off Stiles.

“I know,” Stiles mutters.

It’s a Sunday so we all agree that if we’re going to go through with this it needs to be today. Scott begins to tell us the plan that he’s created in order to find Malia. I do as told and call Lydia immediately so that she can contact the twins. Once I’m off the phone with Lydia, I say goodbye to them, leaving to go to Lydia’s house. I let myself in when I arrive like Lydia instructed me to.

“Hey, Lydia,” I say, entering her room.

“Hey, Jess,” she replies.

I lie down on her bed and watch her as she stands in her closet, looking around at all of her clothes. We’re silent for a few moments. That’s something I’ve always enjoyed about our friendship: we never talked to simply fill the silence. I know that it may seem weird that Lydia—queen of talking—can actually be quiet, but I think the occasional silence is what’s made our friendship strong. Granted Lydia does most of the talking when we do talk, but we both recognize when we just need some silence.

“So you texted Aiden, right?” I ask after a few minutes.

Lydia nods. “We’re supposed to meet them at Derek’s place in about thirty minutes or so.”

“Have you told Scott and Stiles?”

“I figured we’d just run by your place and pick them up.”

I roll my eyes and chuckle at Lydia’s thought process. Who knows what Scott and Stiles are up to at the moment; they may not even be home. I send them both a text in order to let them know that we’ll pick them up in about fifteen minutes. Soon Lydia and I are in my Jeep, heading back to my house to get the guys. When we’re outside my house, I honk and watch the two boys run out of the house. It’s not long before we’re walking inside Derek’s loft.

“They said they’d meet us here,” Lydia says as we walk into the room.

Lydia stands in front of me and glances around the room. I stand next to Stiles who is searching for any sight of the twins. Suddenly we hear a commotion behind us; we turn just in time to see the twins begin punching Scott.

“What the hell are you two doing?!” I cry. “Stop it!”

I leap forward to help Scott, but the twins don’t even so much as glance at me. Scott manages to push me back just before the twins attack again. I fall backwards into Stiles arms; he helps me steady myself. Stiles pulls Lydia and me out of the way as the twins throw Scott off the stairs. The fighting goes on for several minutes. I bite my lip as the rage bubbles inside me. I haven't even had much of a chance to get to know the twins all that well, but I already understand the rage and frustration that the others feel towards them as I watch they continue to fight my cousin.

“I thought you guys were going to teach me to roar,” Scott pants.

“We are,” one says annoyed. “You do it by giving in.”

They continue to taunt Scott while they punch him more. After a moment, they explain to Scott why they’re doing this. Apparently it’s because he’s afraid to turn, and once he turns, then he’ll be able to roar.

The second one pushes Scott. “You can’t let go with us?”

“You think you’re going to hurt us?” The other one snarls.

The beating continues, growing worse. I cringe and hide my face in Stiles’ chest. Stiles wraps an arm around me while he plays with my hair.

“Make them stop,” I whisper.

Not being able to close my eyes for too long, I open them to see one twin on top of Scott beating him senseless. This is when it occurs to me that Aiden is the one being the most brutal; I suddenly become fueled with more rage and hatred towards him. I suddenly become fueled with rage and hatred. I watch Ethan pull him back.

“You help too much,” Ethan says.

With that, I rush over to the table. I help Scott sit up; I stand in front of him, watching him closely. Scott is breathing heavily in attempts to regain his breath. Stiles and Lydia are silent on my right. I look over to my left to see the twins are staring at Scott. Ethan gives me a sympathetic look. I don’t say or do anything, except give Aiden a furious glare. Aiden stares back at me just as fiercely. I only tear my eyes away to look back at Scott.

We’re all silent for a few moments as Scott heals. I reach up to touch his nose, which is covered in dry blood. I’ve barely touched it when Scott’s hand grips my wrist instinctively. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see in his eyes that it still hurts a little. I mutter an apology; Scott just smiles softly at me and lets go off my hand. Once he’s ready, we leave, heading towards the woods where Malia’s father lives. I text Allison and Isaac, and I tell them to meet us there. When we arrive, we all get out of our cars and group together.

“Does anyone else think we’re doing more harm than good?” Lydia asks.

“We’re trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter,” Scott tells her earnestly.

“Actually,” Isaac says bluntly, “we’re trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote who’s actually his daughter who we don’t know how to change from a coyote back to his daughter.”

“And again with the not helping,” Stiles says sarcastically.

“He’s got a point, you know,” I say. I ruffle my hair and ignore the angry looks they give Isaac and I. “How can we even be sure that this coyote is actually Malia? Besides, we don’t even know if what we’re doing will work.”

Stiles glares at me, and I stick my tongue out at him. Isaac fist bumps me, silently thanking me for defending him. Scott looks over at Allison as though Isaac and I didn’t say anything.

“Did you bring it?” Scott asks her.

Allison pulls a gun out of her trunk. Scott hands me a small bag without saying a word. I take it and peek inside to find two knives along with one holster. Is he really giving me a chance to protect myself? My eyes rest on Scott again for an explanation.

“I know that you’re wicked at throwing knives,” Scott says when I look up at him. “I know your dad had you practice and that you even won awards and medals when we were kids.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, “but why are you giving them to me now?”

“I don’t want you going out there unprotected.”

I nod, not sure what to say. Scott is right: my dad did teach me how to throw knives and how to shoot a gun when I was young. My dad even put me in competitions, and I won many of them. He never had that many guns (only two), but they were only for protection; my father wanted me to know how to properly handle a gun and shoot it only if absolutely necessary. My father also had a fascination with knives and their history. I always thought it was because not many people shared that same fascination, which made it all the more interesting to him. With the knives in hand, I have new sense of confidence. I feel as though I’m actually useful for once.

“So how are we splitting up?” Stiles asks.

Scott tells us that he’ll be going alone. He assigns Stiles and Lydia together; I notice how Stiles’ eyes look at me fleetingly. Is he okay? My thoughts are quickly interrupted when I hear Scott say my name. Isaac and I are together, and Allison says that she’s fine with being alone. A sharp bang comes from the other side of the house, making us all jump. I gasp and turn around swiftly; my breathing hitches in my throat. An eerie silence rings in the air around us.

“He saw her,” I manage to whisper. “Holy shit he must have seen her!”

Scott turns to me. “It’s okay, Jessie. Things are going to be okay. We’re going to work this out. Trust me?”

I nod again, unable to say another word. Scott hops on his motorcycle and takes off. Stiles takes my face between his hands and kisses me lightly on the lips before turning to go south with Lydia. I watch Allison go west and Scott go north. Isaac and I head east; we don’t speak for the first several minutes. Our eyes search everything around as we go deeper into the woods. While I am great at throwing a knife, everything else about me is nearly useless. I can’t see, smell, or hear like Isaac, which leaves me dependent on him.

“Don’t forget to look out for the traps Stiles’ dad was talking about,” I say, ending the silence.

Isaac offers a thumbs up to know he heard me. I notice how he eyes the knife in my hand and the second one that’s resting in the holster on my waist.

“Show me,” Isaac says. “I never knew you could do that.”

“It’s nothing special,” I reply casually.

“I think it’s cool… Are you going to show me?”

I twiddle the knife around the fingers on my right hand. I survey the area around me, looking for a great object to throw it at. No one or nothing is around me that I could injure.

“See that tree fifteen yards away? The one with the branch that’s sticking up at the weird angle about five feet up the trunk?”

Isaac nods. I’ve barely finished my sentence when I decide to throw the knife. The knife lands in the tree trunk about the height of my chest. Isaac gazes at me with wide eyes. I grin and brush my shoulder.

“Whoa that’s awesome!” Isaac cheers.

“Eh nothing much. I’ve been doing it since I was eight.”

As soon as I say that, we hear another gunshot coming in the direction I threw the knife. My head whips around to look at Isaac. We don’t say a word; we simply run in the direction of the noise. I pull the knife out of the tree as I run past it. With his werewolf ability and abnormally long legs, Isaac pushes past me, running farther ahead by a few yards.

“Isaac,” I pant, “wait up! Please Isaac. I can’t run as fast as you!”

Isaac glances over his shoulder at me. I’m several feet behind Isaac, but I’m close enough to hear a loud click. My heart drops, knowing exactly what’s happened. There’s a split second of silence as I watch despair and pain cover his face before he finally lets out a bloodcurdling scream. My stomach turns in knots at the sound and sight of his discomfort. Thank God I ran track, I say as push myself harder to close the remaining distance between us.

“Holy hell Isaac,” I say, dropping to my knees by his side.

The trap is closed around his bloody ankle. Isaac winces, ignoring my concerns. Isaac looks across the woods, and I follow his gaze. I see Malia’s father standing about a maximum of twenty-five yards away (possibly less) with his gun pointed at something in the distance. That’s when I saw a coyote much further in the distance.

“We have to do something, Jess,” Isaac says painfully. “We can’t let him shoot her.”

“I don’t know what to do! I can throw a knife that far, but not without hurting him.”

As we look back in his direction, we see him collapse to the ground. Our eyes land on Allison in a different direction; her gun is pointed in the direction of Malia’s father. We heave a sigh of relief. I look down at Isaac’s leg, trying to figure out how I’m going to get him out of this.

“I need to get you out of this or you won’t start healing.”

“There are directions of how to disarm on it somewhere. Follow them.”

I finally find the instructions; I read them two or three times to ensure that I understand them correctly. I follow them slowly and with that it opens. Isaac hobbles a few steps away from the trap before settling on the ground. I crawl over to him in order to check his leg. He’s already healing, even though it still looks disgusting.

“Hey are you guys alright?” Allison says as she approaches us.

Isaac and I nod as she crouches down next to us. I touch his ankle lightly with my index finger in search of where all the blood is coming from. Isaac winces and grunts; he pushes my hand away. I mumble an apology still looking at the blood that’s covering his ankle. Isaac begins to breathe heavily, and that’s when I notice his eyes turn yellow. He can’t turn, not now. Allison says his name and tries to call him back. I talk to him and remind him that the two of us can’t be the annoying, sarcastic assholes at the end of this mission if we don’t hurry back to the clearing to meet the other three. Slowly, Isaac’s eyes return to normal, and he’s chuckling at my comment.

We wait for Isaac to finish healing enough for him to walk on his own (even if it’s with a limp). I call the sheriff and inform him of where Malia’s father is so that he can come retrieve him. Afterwards, the three of us head back towards our cars so that we can meet the others. We’ve only been walking for about five minutes when I hear a loud growl, recognizing it as Scott. The three of us must have the same look in our eyes: he did it. Scott did it!! We continue making our way to the clearing, speaking very little. We’ve only been in the clearing a few minutes when Stiles and Lydia arrive. Shortly after them, Scott appears with a girl.

It's Malia.

We all stare, not sure what to say or do. Suddenly, I’m walking towards my Jeep. I pull out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts. I walk slowly to Scott and Malia who are standing several yards away from the group. Once I’m in front of them, I’m quiet at first. Malia looks at me; she’s quivering. There’s fear written all over her face. I hold the clothes out in front of me ,and she just looks at them obviously unsure of what to do or say.

“Hi I’m Jessie,” I say. “You can have these if you’d like.”

Malia watches me closely. She doesn’t say anything as she glances at Scott who nods, signifying that it’s okay. Malia takes them from my hands. A small smile appears on her face, which I quickly return. The sheriff walks out of the house and towards us; he talks with Malia for a few moments before walking with her towards the house. Stiles, Lydia, and I take a seat in my Jeep. We all watch as she’s reunited with her father.

“Well, guys,” Isaac says from his spot next to my window, “that’s a job well done.”

I grin up at Isaac from my seat and high-five him. Scott takes a seat next to Lydia in the back of my Jeep. Beside me, Stiles gasps loudly and pats my arm repeatedly.

“I can read that!” Stiles says excitedly. He points at the words on the mirror of my car. “Guys, I can read!”

I lean over and kiss his cheek, making him blush. Isaac raises his brow at me and whistles. This time I’m the one who blushes; I shove Isaac playfully. Scott pats Stiles on the shoulder and makes a joke. I glance over my shoulder at Scott who throws up his hands in defense. Stiles won’t meet my gaze, embarrassed by what’s happening. Scott nods at me and says it’s time to go, and I pull out of the driveway. There’s a nice breeze as we make our down the country roads; the radio is on, drowning out the silence. Right here, right now, is how things should be. For a moment on, it’s as if everything is perfect.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Last night, we couldn’t get anything out of the sheriff. He just kept repeating to be careful, to stay together, and to not go out looking for trouble. We never go out looking for trouble; somehow trouble always finds us. No matter how many questions we asked and how much we pestered him, Mr. Stilinski wouldn’t go into detail about what happened. He just kept saying that bad things were happening. That’s not big news. How often does something bad happen around here?

After a while, we let it go and quit asking questions, knowing he’d tell us when he could. I know that whatever it is it’s important; I could tell by the sincerity in the sheriff’s eyes. When the guys and I left Stiles house yesterday afternoon, I couldn’t let the anxiousness escape me. The guys must have known because they took me to the lacrosse field and tried to teach me some stuff in hopes of distracting me. It didn’t take long for me to become engrossed in trying to learn the movements and plays they were teaching me, itching to learn how to play the sport my best friends had been playing for years. Before long, I was at ease again, and thankfully I’m feeling the same this morning.

Stiles picked me up a few minutes ago to go to school. Scott always drives his motorcycle, leaving me to drive alone. However, Stiles refuses to let me do that; he tells me that it’s silly when he can give me a lift. We’ve been gone for five minutes, and we’re acting like the idiots that we are: singing at the top of our longs and dancing wildly.

“I’m like a bird,” Stiles belts. “I’ll only fly away.”

I laugh and sing along just as poorly. “I don’t know where my soul is. I don’t know where my home is.”

Once the Nelly Furtado song is over, Stiles turns down the radio so that it’s no longer blasting. The music is now soft enough for the two of us to hold a conversation. Neither of us speaks at first, merely enjoying each other’s company. This is something I’ve always cherished about our friendship: We can go from acting like complete and utter fools to making no noise at all. Riding next to Stiles in silence is where we have some of our best conversations. It’s strange, I know, but we just get each other so well.

A simple look or an ordinary gesture between the two of us can sometimes say more than words; what we don’t say or what we don’t show and try to hide can sometimes indicate more. We’ve always been so attuned to each other. I’ve always been amazed by how close the two of us are. I sneak a glance at my best friend, admiring how great he is and thinking how lucky I am to have him.

The butterflies fluttering around in my stomach make me anxious, so I tug at the sleeves of my jacket and look out the window. Today I decided to wear a navy dress with white polka dots as well as a blue jean jacket. Although I actually really like it, I don’t often wear this sort of stuff. From time to time, I wear dresses or skirts, usually because I’m tired of wearing pants.

“You look really nice today,” Stiles says casually. I look up at him and smile. “I mean, you’re always really beautiful”—my eyes flicker away, staring at my hands—“Jessie, I mean that. You always do… But I think you look really pretty today. Your style is simple and casual yet really nice and different, which I like. And I know dresses aren’t normally your thing, but I like you in them. You’re kind of adorable in them, you know.”

“Thanks, Stiles,” I reply quietly. I play with my fingers, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You’re welcome.” Stiles reaches over and nudges my shoulder playfully. He rests his hand in mine, a gesture we’ve been doing for a few years. Our fingers aren’t interlocked, but we’re holding hands nonetheless. “You believe me, right?”

I shrug, not meeting his eye. We’re pulling into the parking lot.

“Jessie,” Stiles says softly. “I meant every word I said. And I hope you recognize how truly beautiful and amazing you are in every way.”

“Stiles, I really appreciate it. It’s just that I don’t hear the words ‘beautiful’ and ‘pretty’ associated with me all that often, ok?”

My family (what little family I have) has told me I’m pretty, but I’ve rarely heard it from anyone else. Lydia and one girl friend I had in Atlanta have told me that as well. Hearing it from a guy has never happened before. Stiles comes to a stop in the parking space. I offer him a small smile and start to open my door. The door is open, but I haven’t even moved my feet when I’m being pulled in the opposite direction. Stiles tugs on my hand, making me fall back. As he pulls me towards him, the door shuts as my arm swings back into the car.

I had hoped I could avoid this. I had hoped we’d get out of the car and Stiles would let this conversation go. Sadly, it’s not happening. I reluctantly look to my left and up at Stiles. He’s staring at me intently. His warm, chocolate brown eyes are piercing through my hazel ones. Even after all these minutes, Stiles hasn’t let go of my hand.

“That’s a shame,” Stiles says sincerely. “That’s a fucking disgrace. Jessie, you are one of the most amazing people I have ever met—if not the most amazing one. Ever! When I said you’re beautiful, I didn’t just mean in looks. But you are incredibly gorgeous.” Stiles offers me a cheeky grin and winks at me. “You’re all around wonderful. And you deserve to hear it everyday of your life. I mean that. I’m going to make sure you do, all right? It’s my duty as your best friend to make sure you know how special you are every single day.”

“Thanks, Stiles. You’re the greatest friend I could ever have. I mean that.”

I reach over and tousle his hair. Stiles chuckles and runs his hands through his hair to fix it. I’m not so sure why I do it, but I lean over and kiss his cheek. Stiles’ cheeks begin to turn a deep shade of red. I bite my lip, certain that my cheeks are the same color as his. He opens his mouth to speak, but he stutters before finally closing his mouth.

“I … I don’t know … I just,” I mumble. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles smirks and offers me a cheeky grin again. “Don’t be. I could get used to that actually.”

Now it’s my turn to be at a loss for words. I laugh and follow Stiles out of the car. Stiles and I enter the school, walking down the halls towards our lockers. How we managed to have lockers next to each other I’m not sure, but I’m glad we do because it always gives us extra time together. When the bell rang, we both made our way to class. Stiles and I take our place in the same seats as yesterday. Danny smiles at me, striking up conversation. We talk for a few minutes before Coach enters.

Perking up, I bite my lip and think of what’s about to happen. I’m fighting back a smile at the thought of what’s about to happen. Today’s the day: the day that Stiles and Scott prank the coach. I notice how the class seems to be expecting it. I glance back at Stiles who has an evil smirk plastered on his face. Stiles winks at me, making me chuckle; he must notice the look in my eyes, which lets him know that I’m waiting for it to happen.

“So what’d you guys come up with?” I mutter.

“Well,” Stiles whispers, leaning forward in his seat, “there’s a box on his desk, and he’s gonna think he just got a box of screws, but when he picks it up it’ll trigger the wire that’s connected to everything on his walls, causing everything to fall.”

I roll my eyes and congratulate him. Stiles shrugs and pops his shirt, grinning like mad. I turn back around and lean forward in my seat. Coach walks straight into his office without saying a word to us. Suddenly, a loud crash occurs in Coach’s office followed by his shouts. I laugh along with the rest of the class. I’m laughing so hard that I fold my arms on the desk and lay my head down on my arms for a couple seconds. After a few short moments, I turn back around to Stiles. He’s still laughing like me; he’s holding his stomach from laughing so hard. I finally catch my breath. Stiles fist bumps me, and I turn back around to look at the coach.

“You all are terrible!” Coach hollers. He continues to rant and lecture us about how he hates having his birthday on today.

When class is over, Stiles and I walk out into the hallway. I spot Scott standing at a corner a few meters down the hall. The look on his face signifies that he’s thinking hard and concentrating on something. I tap him on the shoulder, causing him to jump.

“Sorry,” I say. “What’s up?”

“It’s fine,” Scott replies. He looks back in the direction that he had been gazing in.

I follow his lead. That’s when I notice Stiles’ dad and a few other cops. “Stiles, what’s your dad doing here?”

“William Barrow escaped,” Scott says, sharing a pained expression with us.

I look at the two of them confused because I’m not sure who this William Barrow guy is. They quickly explain who Barrow is to me. None of us can fathom how Barrow managed to escape. I send Stiles over to talk with his father. As they talk, Scott listens and whispers to me what they’re saying. I swear under my breath over the fact that Barrow snuck out of the hospital after flies flew out of his chest during surgery. And now Barrow is supposedly at the school. At the mention of “glowing eyes,” Scott and I stare at each other worriedly. Had Barrow really set of the bomb because of kids with glowing eyes? Like werewolves with glowing eyes?

I immediately start walking towards Stiles. Scott catches up quickly. Stiles turns around and closes the gap between us. We talk about what we’re going to do. Scott and Stiles say that they need to help the sheriff for a bit. I state that I’m going to find Isaac and the twins, quickly turning on my heel. Fortunately, I find Isaac rather fast. I tell him to come with me and that I’ll explain on the way. The fire alarm goes off when we’re halfway done the hallway. We split up, agreeing that Isaac will find the twins and I will search for Allison and Lydia.

Making my way down the hall is much harder than I had thought considering that everyone’s flooding out of rooms. Fuck being polite, I think and begin to be more forceful. I push past people, not thinking of how hard I’m going through the crowds. My eyes are searching the faces. Finally, I spot Allison at the end of the hall.

“Hey, Allison!” I shout. She whips her head around. I wave frantically and jump slightly. “Allison, I need you!”

Allison and I make our way towards each other. It only takes a few seconds for us to reach each other. We’re standing in the middle of the hallway, which is beginning to grow empty. I tell her a brief explanation of what’s going on. I’m nearly finished telling her when two arms wrap around me. I look over my shoulder to see Ethan chuckling.

Ethan and I really hit it off yesterday. We have two classes together, giving us a lot of time to talk. When I went with Stiles and Scott to the lacrosse field yesterday afternoon, he showed up with Danny. I really got to know him during those couple of hours; he’s a great guy and I enjoy spending time with him. Aiden and I on the other hand are a little more distant.

“Hey, cutie,” I say with a smile. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Ethan chuckles as he releases me. “I heard from Scott that we’re in the middle of a crisis.”

“It looks like it,” Allison says. She sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

I go to say something, but my phone beeps. I unlock it to read a text from Scott.

“According to Scott,” I say, “the lockdown is called off. Barrow has been spotted elsewhere.”

At the moment, Aiden and Lydia approach us. Aiden is smirking, and Lydia’s cheeks are flushed. As she touches up her lipstick, she catches my gaze; I raise my brow, silently letting her know I know. Lydia smiles at me, but says nothing. Rolling my eyes, I let them know what’s happened, and that things are ok for now. A few minutes later Stiles, Scott, and Isaac join us too. They inform us of how Barrow had planted a fake bomb on a bus. He had used a present just like the first time, but there was no bomb inside. Instead, the sheriff’s name plaque was inside.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Allison says exasperated. “I just don’t get it.”

“Me neither,” Lydia says.

I sigh. “There’s gotta be something to it. Barrow is crazy, but there’s a reason he did what he did. It’s just not a coincidence that your dad’s stuff was in that box. He may be a maniac, but even he has his reasons.”

“She’s right,” Stiles says. “Where in the hell do you think he is now?”

The eight of us stare at one another in silence. Once again, things are getting heated in Beacon Hills. I can tell that we’ve all silently agreed to figure out what’s going on. What are we getting ourselves into?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

The window is cool against my cheek as I rest my head on it. They’re talking, and I’m struggling to pay attention. I was in a deep sleep when he woke me up, panicking that we had to get to the school. In a daze, I had thrown on a pair of yoga pants and Stiles’ Beacon Hills sweatshirt. I remember crawling out my window after Stiles who caught me when I jumped off the five-foot landing.

At the moment, I’m sitting in the front passenger seat, listening to Stiles and Lydia, who’s in the back, talk about the discovery that Stiles came across. I should be listening, I know, but I’m tired. I was finally getting some great rest. Unfortunately, my sleep schedule has been out of whack since my father’s death. I yawn and stretch, knowing that I need to focus. I let out a grunt as I stretch better. Stiles chuckles so I look at him; he meets my gaze. I raise a brow, questioning him.

“What?” I ask. Stiles smiles and blushes, but doesn’t answer me. “C’mon, what is it? I woke up in the middle of nap for you. The least you can do is answer me.”

Stiles glances at me again and I can see he’s nervous as he says, “You’re just really adorable when you’re tired.”

My cheeks are turning pink. What’s up with him? I wonder. Stiles is always nice to me, but the past couple of days have been different. I sneak a glance at Lydia who gives me a “holy-shit-he-really-likes-you” look. I smile, unable to shake off what Stiles just said.

“Stilinski, you sure are charmer,” I say. I wink at him when he looks at me, making him blush yet again.

Finally, we arrive at the school. Lydia and I follow Stiles to the door on the side of school that we know is always cracked because it’s a few millimeters too tall to close completely. It’s crazy to think that we actually know this door is always unlocked because of how many times we’ve been here in the dead of night. Lydia is on my left and I can hear her heels clicking against the tile. Typical Lydia: only she would wear heels to the school after hours while we’re deciphering a clue about a bomber.

I walk closely next to Stiles as we wander the dark, silent halls of the school. My senses are on high alert because of how eerie it is in here after school. It’s only six o’clock yet I still find it oddly uncomfortable in here. Stiles must notice how uneasy I am, even though I think I’m doing a good job of hiding it. I notice how he’s watching me out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly, my hand is enclosed in Stiles’ hand; I look up at him immediately, surprised by how his fingers are intertwining with mine. Stiles winks at me, and I glance down at my feet. I bite my lip and feel how he squeezes my hand, letting me know he’s got me.

Stiles leads us around another corner before entering a science lab. He’s still holding my hand as we walk through the room. Stiles stops in front of the chalkboard. I study his face as he stares at the writing on the chalkboard. His eyes crinkle at the edges, like how they always do when he’s thinking incredibly hard. His lips quiver as he mouths some words to himself. I sneak a glance down at our hands to see that his thumb is tracing circles on the back of my hand. A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.

I push the butterflies away to start thinking seriously again. Lydia and I share a look, not sure what Stiles is up to. I finally look up at the chalkboard to see what’s written on it. Numbers. What do they mean? Why didn’t the teacher erase them before leaving?

“What’s wrong?” I ask after a minute of silence.

“I noticed this earlier,” Stiles says.

“I noticed a lot of things earlier,” Lydia responds nonchalantly. She’s staring at her nails. “But I didn’t bring two of my friends away from what they were doing to just come stare at it.”

I shoot her a “really-are-you-kidding” look. She just rolls her eyes.

“Okay… Stiles, what’s going on?” I ask. “Does this have something to do with Barrow?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’ve been thinking about something all day: how did he cover his scent?”

Lydia stares at the cabinets of lab supplies. “With chemicals.”

“Exactly.” Stiles starts to walk over to the supply closet on the opposite side of the wall. He’s still holding my hand, which causes me to stumble after him for a moment. I go to open it only to find it won’t. “This closet was unlocked when I checked during school, but it’s locked now.”

We stare at each other for a moment. I gaze at the closet door before returning my attention to Stiles. The confused look I see on his face must be reflected on mine. The gears in my brain start grinding and the wheels start spinning. Chemicals. A psychotic bomber. Lab supplies. Science. Barrow. Numbers. The fucking periodic table! I think. Lydia’s loud sigh, and the sound of chalk against the white board interrupts my quick moment of thinking.

“You’re right, Stiles!” I say in a rush. “The numbers are important! They’re from the periodic table—”

“Which means,” Lydia says, “they have names.”

She sits the chalk back down and wipes off her hands. Stiles and I walk back over to her. Besides the numbers, the letters Lydia wrote spell out “KIRA.”

“I think Barrow wants something to do with Kira,” Lydia says.

“But Barrow said he saw kids with glowing eyes,” Stiles says. “Kira’s not a wolf.”

I run a hand through my hair. “He didn’t just do this by accident. Look, I know he’s crazy, but do you really think the fact that this spells ‘Kira’ is an accident? I don’t know if Barrow wrote these numbers himself or someone else did it for him, but I’m willing to bet that he’s searching for her right now.”

“You’re right,” Lydia agrees. “This is too weird for it to be a coincidence. We need to tell Scott and Kira now.”

I’ve barely started to reach for my phone when I’m being pulled forward.

“We gotta go,” Stiles says urgently. “Now!”

Stiles quickly makes his way towards the door, tugging me after him. As the three of us are making our way towards the parking lot, I shoot Scott a quick text about everything we just discovered. In Stiles’ Jeep, we replay everything that’s happened over the course of the day: Barrow escaped from the hospital, he was sighted near the school, a bomb was thought to be at the school, and the twins came back. I had never met the twins until two days ago, but that hasn’t prevented me from getting to know them well. As Stiles drives to my house to drop Lydia and I off there, I recall the interaction we had with the twins earlier today.

During study hour, a time we have the option to do practically whatever we want, I sit at a circular table in the library with Stiles, Scott, and Isaac. They’re discussing the Barrow situation while I’m reading Looking for Alaska. Although I’m not listening to them all that well, I do notice when their voices came to a halt. I look up to see the twins standing next to us. Ethan takes the only open seat between Scott and I, and Aiden pulls a chair up from another table.

“Hey, you,” I mutter to Ethan. I shut my book, marking my page.

“Hey, Squints,” Ethan says. He nudges me in the sides. I giggle at the nickname.

Yesterday at the lacrosse field, Ethan started calling me Squints, like the guy from The Sandlot, because apparently he thinks I’m witty and sarcastic like Squints; plus, he thinks I’m really smart, which I laughed at although I appreciated the comment. With all that and the fact that I wear glasses, apparently I remind Ethan of Squints.

“So,” Scott says, “what’s up, guys?”

The twins share a glance.

“We need an alpha,” Ethan says, “and you need a pack. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

“A win-win?” Isaac laughs. He sits back far in his seat, crosses his arms, and rocks back in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Hell to the fucking no,” Stiles protests. He’s sitting to my right. I move my leg closest to him and entangle it with his; I also loop my arm in his arm that’s resting on his lap under the table. I hope he realizes that I don’t want him to be angry. Stiles eyes rest on my face for half a second before glaring at the twins. “You can take your asses somewhere else. We don’t need you.”

“Actually,” Scott interferes, “we do.”

There’s a silence as we all take in what’s going. I watch the guys closely: I notice how Ethan is calm and serious, like Scott; he really wants to work with us, I can tell. Ethan’s willing to work with us. Aiden, however, is obviously pissed, not so easily adaptable and ready to work cohesively with us like his twin. Isaac and Stiles are heated as well, unwilling to let the twins in our pack. My hands start to get clammy because I don’t want confrontation. The last thing I want is for anyone to get hurt, especially my friends.

Aiden glares at Stiles even more fiercely, which makes me tense up. He won’t hurt him—will he?

“Don’t forget we killed one of your friends already,” Aiden says, looking at Scott. Is he threatening us? Is he trying to scare us so that we’ll let him and his brother into the pack? “We can do that again.”

Aiden’s gaze falls on Stiles; he looks at him tauntingly and smirks, obviously meaning the last statement to be for Stiles. I straighten up, angry that he’s going after Stiles. Fuck no, I think. If there’s one person I’ll defend to my death, it’s Stiles.

“Are you looking at me?” Stiles asks surprised, pointing at Aiden. “Wait, are you threatening me?”

“Enough, guys!” I say urgently. “None of this is doing anyone any good. We can talk—”

“You know what I’m gonna do?” Stiles interrupts. “I’m gonna break off an extra large branch of Mountain Ash, wrap it in Wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it straight up your—”

“Stiles!” My voice is a half-whisper, a half-cry. Stiles stops talking immediately, stunned by the authoritativeness in my voice.

The librarian looks at us, but she turns away when none of us say another word. I return my gaze back to the guys who are silent. Ethan catches my eye; he offers me a sympathetic look. Aiden is glaring at Stiles. Stiles breathes heavily through his noise, like he usually does when he’s angry. Not liking how this is going or how Stiles is angry, I suddenly grip his hand tightly, hoping to calm him down. When he faces me, I raise my brow, silently warning him to calm down. Stiles nods and sits back in his seat with his arms crossed.

I realize that the guys have all shrunk in their seats. I can feel myself rising with a newfound power. Is it possible that I actually have a role in this pack? That I’m not just a human they let tag along? That I’m not just along for the ride because I’m friends with them? That I can be a unifying force to keep everyone together, and that I can be a source of laughter to remind everyone that there is good out there? Scott fights back a smile, recognizing how I’m gaining self-confidence. I stare at them—four of whom are much bigger than me and definitely stronger than me.

None of them speak, knowing that I’m not quite finished yet. I still have the floor.

“Look,” I say sternly. “I’m not going to put up with this petty werewolf bullshit. We’re going to work this out like the adults that we are. Arguing and holding grudges isn’t going to get us anywhere. So every one of you needs to drop the attitudes and start working together. Right now. Got it?”

Isaac lets out the breath he has been holding. “Yes, ma’am.”

Scott nods and agrees, saying that he thinks I’m totally right. Ethan pats me on the shoulder and says that he’s happy to start working things out. Aiden huffs angrily and crosses his arms across his chest. He mutters something about hate being told what to do and I’m just a little human girl who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I roll my eyes at him and flip him off, which causes his face to scrunch up more out of anger. Isaac laughs at my response, and I offer him a smile. My eyes rest on Stiles. He’s torn; he doesn’t want the twins back yet recognizes they could be useful. But most of all, he wants to make me happy.

“We need all the help we can get,” I say softly. Remembering that we’re still holding hands, I softly squeeze his hand, silently begging him to trust me.

Stiles nods and says, “Alright, let’s get down to business. We got a lot of stuff to figure out.”

Soon enough, we arrive at my house a little after seven o’clock. Lydia and I exit the Jeep. Lydia goes straight inside, and lets her self in. Instead of following her inside the house, I stop beside Stiles’ door and rest my arms on his open window seal. With his warm, chocolate brown eyes, Stiles peers down at me. We merely watch each other in silence for a moment. He reaches over to brush some hair out of my eyes.

“I really appreciate you coming,” Stiles says. “Sorry I woke you from your nap. I know your sleep has been screwed up lately… I just really needed you.”

“It’s okay,” I say. The look in his eyes says he doesn’t quite believe me. “I promise. You know I’m always here to help you guys. Especially you.”

Stiles smirks. “We’re going to figure this out, okay? And I’m not going to let you get hurt. You’re safe with me.”

“I’ve always known that I am.” I reach over and ruffle his hair. He chuckles as his cheeks begin to blush. “You better get going, Stilinski. Call me if anything happens.”

Stiles says goodbye, and I retreat inside the house. In my room, I lay on my bed as Lydia rummages through my closet. We’ve only been back for maybe ten minutes when I get a call from a panicked Scott.

“Jessie, you need to come. Please—it’s Kira! Barrow took her! Hurry, Jess! ”

My blood starts rushing through my veins. My heart is pumping wildly. Will this madness ever end?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

After assuring Scott that I’m on my way, I hang up. Lydia is staring at me. All I tell her is that we need to go. And now. Lydia and I dash to my Jeep. On the way, I tell Lydia what Scott said, and I hear her let out a heavy sigh. I speed to Kira’s house, going much faster than the speed limit. We arrive at Kira’s house in record time and see Stiles trying to calm Scott down.

“Scott!” I call out after only setting one foot out of my Jeep.

I manage to slam the door shut as I rush over to him. I hug him immediately, even before he has a chance to say anything. Scott releases me after a moment. I look him up and down, checking to see if he’s hurt.

“What happened?” I ask calmly. “Are you hurt or anything?”

“I’m okay,” Scott says. “I don’t remember much, except for Barrow knocking me out. I woke up after a few minutes, and Kira was gone.”

I run a hand through my hair and swear under my breath. Stiles and I share an apprehensive look. Scott is biting his lower lip, a sign that he’s nervous. I offer him a small smile; I hope it’s more convincing than it feels.

“We’ll find her, okay?” Lydia assures him.

“Are there any sort of clues that we have of where he might have taken her?” Stiles thinks aloud. “There has to be some hint or clue. Scott, do you think you can trace her sent?”

“I’m not so sure that’s necessary,” Scott replies. We look at him confused. “Remember how Barrow used to be an electrical engineer?”

That’s when it clicks. The electrical plant appears in my mind. My eyes widen, and I gasp. I slap Stiles on the arm, like I usually do when I get excited, surprised, or have a sudden revelation. Stiles whimpers, which is logical because I accidentally hit much harder than I intended. He puckers his lips as he stares down at me. 

“The electrical plant!” I say exasperated. I place a hand on his bicep where I hit him in attempts to apologize. “Barrow took Kira there! God, it makes so much sense!”

The four of us waste no time piling into my Jeep Cherokee. I don’t even bother checking to see if everyone is in, if the doors are shut, and definitely not to see if everyone has their seatbelts on. I floor it and speed off towards the power plant. Once at the plant, we run into the building. We round some corners when we finally hear voices. I speedily walk towards a pile of stuff and crouch down behind it; the others follow suit.

Kira is tied to a wired cage. Barrow walks around her, not taking his eyes off of her. His back is to us so he can’t see us.

“They all said I was crazy,” Barrow tells her. Shivers travel down my spine. “But I know what I saw. Those kids with their glowing eyes. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not one of them,” Kira answers desperately. “I’m not one of those kids.”

Barrow reaches into his pocket. I strain my eyes to see that he pulls out a cellphone. Is it Kira’s? I think. Barrow snaps a few pictures of her, earning a quiet growl from Scott. I only heard it because I’m kneeling right beside him. I grab his hand, shaking my head. Scott nods, curls his hands into firsts, and turns his attention back towards Barrow and Kira.

Barrow looks at the phone and then back at Kira. He makes a ticking sound. “I know what you are. And I’m not crazy.”

Barrow inches closer to Kira. The breath in my throat hitches. I look around wildly, searching for something we can use to fight Barrow off or at least distract him. And that’s when I finally notice it.

“Holy shit, guys,” I mutter. “She’s sitting in a puddle of water. One spark from those wires in his hands and Kira’s a goner.”

The words have barely left my lips when there’s a flash of movement to my right. I make a move to grab Scott by the arm, but he’s already feet in front of us.

“She’s not the one you want,” Scott says. He stops walking a few feet away from Barrow and Kira. “It’s me.”

Lydia sits down, facing away from the scene unfolding before us. She rests her face in her hands. She’s panicking, I can tell, but she’s trying to think of something to do. Stiles is mumbling beside me and racking his brain for something to do. I bite my lip and watch the other three closely. Scott is talking to Barrow and trying to convince him that Kira isn’t who he’s looking for and rather him instead. It happens so quickly that I’m not sure what’s happening. Scott lunges at Barrow, which is all Stiles and I see.

When the wires land in the puddle of water, sparks ignite. I grab Stiles’ hand and hold my breath, waiting for them to hurt Kira. Instead, the light from the sparks grows brighter as Kira seems to be absorbing it. Finally, the sparks come to a halt and Kira leans back against the wired cage. I run forward, followed closely by Stiles and Lydia. We all huddle around Kira yet no one speaks. Kira’s breathing slows down back to normal.

After a few minutes I break the silence.

“Stiles,” I say, placing a hand on his arm, “call your dad. Now.”

The police arrive in minutes. Some of them take Barrow into custody, placing him in a cop car. The sheriff approaches us; the four of us are standing in a line, and he looks down the line at us. I’m standing between Lydia and Stiles. Scott and Kira are on the other side of Stiles.

“Can someone please explain to me how is it that wherever there’s trouble you all seem to find it?” Mr. Stilinski asks.

“Honestly, sheriff,” I say innocently, “I’d like to think that trouble finds us, not the other way around.”

I hear Stiles stifle a laugh. Stiles runs a hand over the back of his neck, not meeting his father’s eye as he struggles not to laugh at my statement. The sheriff stares at me for a moment, and I meet his eye. I can’t read his expression. After a moment, a smile breaks across his face.

Mr. Stilinski moves forward and stretches his arms out towards me. “Come here, Jessie.”

I smile widely and step forward into his embrace. He releases me and punches me playfully on the shoulder. Mr. Stilinski hugs his son next. He tells us that we need to come with him to the station so that they can take our statements. We all pile into his car. The ride is kind of quiet. At the station, the sheriff takes us into his office. There’s a small bench across from his desk, resting in front of the window that looks out to the rest of the offices. Stiles and I sit down on it; Kira and Scott take a seat in the chairs to the left of the bench.

At his desk, the sheriff pulls out a pad of paper. He goes to talk, but Scott’s father interrupts him.

“I got this, Sheriff,” Rafael says. He shuts the door.

I cross my arms glare at my uncle. The anger must be radiating off of me because Stiles drapes an arm on the back of the bench, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s make this easy. Shall we?” Rafael shifts his weight onto his other foot. “What time did you get there?”

“At the same time,” Stiles says casually.

I smirk at the annoyed look on my uncle’s face.

“At the same time as who?”

“Me,” Scott says. He points at Stiles, and Stiles points at Scott.

“By coincidence?” Rafael doesn’t seem impressed.

“What do you mean ‘coincidence’?” Stiles asks, acting confused.

“That’s what I’m asking you. The two of you arrived at the same time. Was that coincidence? Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then, Barrow took her to the power station with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town.”

“Sounds about right,” Stiles mutters.

“Bravo,” I say with a straight face. I clap. “I’m glad to see your detective skills are still intact after all these years.”

For a moment, my uncle stares at me. My elbows are propped on my knees, and I rest my chin in my hands. His face is blank, but I know he’s frustrated that I’m making this conversation difficult. I sit back and lean into Stiles, who rests his hand on my shoulder in attempts to reassure me.

“How’d you know he’d take her to a power station?” Rafael continues, acting as if I hadn’t said anything.

“Well, because he was an electrical engineer,” Stiles says nonchalantly, scratching his head. A sarcastic grin tugs at the corners of Stiles’ mouth. “So where else would he take her?”

“That’s one hell of a deduction there, Stiles,” Rafael refutes, rolling his eyes.

“Well, what can I say? I take after my pops! He’s in law enforcement.” Stiles winks and points at his father who chuckles. I giggle, which causes Stiles grin to grow.

“Stiles,” his father says, fighting back a smile, “just answer the questions.”

“We made a good guess,” Stiles corrects himself.

Rafael looks at Scott and Kira and asks, “What were you two doing?”

“Eating sushi,” Kira answers at the same time Scott says, “Eating pizza.”

They look at each other worriedly. Rafael stares at them confused. I swear under my breath, and Stiles shares an apprehensive look with Lydia.

“Eating sushi,” Scott says just as Kira utters, “Eating pizza.”

Kira and Scott sigh before speaking again together. “Eating sushi and pizza.”

Rafael gazes at the sheriff and says, “Do you believe this?”

“To be honest,” the sheriff shrugs, “I haven’t believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak. As for Jessie, she’s just as witty and sarcastic as my son, but she’s got one hell of a brain so she’s not going to let them get into too much trouble… Detective, I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time. And that girl sitting right there”—he points at Kira—“is very lucky for it.”

“Kira,” Rafael says, “is that how you remember it?”

Kira glances at Scott. We all lean forward and look at her. Kira nods and mumbles a ‘yes’. The detective bites his lip and stares at the ground.

“Could I get my phone back now?” Kira asks.

“Sorry, but no.”

With that, Rafael says he’s finished with us and that we can leave. Stiles tells me he’s going to stay here with his dad. He wraps his arms around me, and I hug him tightly. I tell him to text me later so that we can get together and talk. Stiles grins and winks, saying that he will. I follow Scott out the door.

“Scott.” We turn to see his father leaving the room. “I don’t know why you guys are lying. Or why Stilinski is keen to listen to this crap. But try and remember something. If half of this story about Barrow is true, then someone help set him loose. And they’re a pawn in his little game. A mass murderer is bad enough. A mass murderer being controlled by someone is far worse.”

“Dad, I get it,” Scott says sincerely.

“We’re not doing anything we shouldn’t be,” I add.

“I know. Go home. It’s a school night.”

Scott nods and we leave. Our ride home is silent. We try to wrap our minds around everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. At home, we both retreat to our rooms. I collapse on my bed, not bothering to change into my pajamas. I need a minute to breathe after today’s events. However, the light rainfall outside is enough to drift me to sleep within seconds.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

No matter how hard I try, ignoring him is just not an option. I read my book, did some homework, cleaned the dishes—anything to simply not give in. Danny followed me around the house like a puppy; he begged for me to come with him to the black light party tonight. So much has been going on with the supernatural that I’ve been longing for a night in to rest. At the moment, Danny is lying next to me on my bed. We’re talking about nothing in particular, making me hope he’s forgotten about the party.

“Please, Jessie,” Danny mutters, changing the subject. “Why are you so keen on staying locked up in your room on a Friday night?”

I can’t tell him about everything that’s been happening with the supernatural. I can’t tell him that I’m dying for some down time because I’m mentally exhausted from trying to help save my friends. As fun as a party with all of my friends and the school sounds, I’ve been pushing myself—like the others—to my breaking point. School and fighting the supernatural has really gotten to me.

“I just feel like hanging out here,” I say with a shrug. “Why are you dying to go so bad?”

“Ethan really wants me to come. Things have been going really good between us lately so I want to keep it that way.”

“You know Derek is going to flip.”

“That’s only if he finds out—”

“Oh he will and I don’t want to be there when he does nor do I want to hear about for the next few days. We all know he isn’t going to let it go easily. Derek isn’t going to let us forget it. ”

“Jess, I know you’re stressed,” Danny says caringly, “but you really need to get out. Screw Derek! You’re probably his favorite out of everyone. I mean, yeah, he likes Scott, but he’s known you longer and likes you better. Derek won’t be mad at you so lighten up! Have some fun and come with me. Please, Jessie—do it for me!”

I look at him for a moment. His head is resting on an elbow, and he’s facing me. I’m lying on my back with my hands behind my head. After a moment, I glance away.

“C’mon, Jessie, don’t you think you need a break after running around with the werewolves so much lately?”

My head whips around to look at Danny. What the hell? I think to myself. Does Danny really know what he’s talking about? Is he just joking without even realizing how true his statement is? I raise a brow, chuckle slightly, and study him to see if he’s actually serious. Nothing about Danny’s expression suggest that he’s joking.

“Are you really serious?” I ask. I smirk and try to play it off. “Werewolves? Surely you haven’t snuck some liquor behind my back in attempts to pregame for the party tonight, and that’s why you’re talking crazily?”

“I’m not dumb, you know,” Danny says casually, running hand through his hair. “I know about everyone.”

I don’t say anything as I sit up. I just look at him, stunned by how he really knows. How is that Danny knows? I’m at a loss for words. What should I say to the others? Should I say anything at all? Danny knowing about the werewolves is the least of our worries right now. Stiles isn’t getting better; he’s getting worse if I’m being honest and no one knows why exactly. The others don’t have to know that Danny knows. He’s obviously not a threat. If he had wanted to do something or admit to knowing, he would’ve done so by now.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Danny says. “I haven’t told anyone but you.”

We share a look, and I know he’s telling the truth. Although I should be suspicious of how he knows, I’m absolutely certain there’s nothing wrong. I nod, signifying that everything’s okay. Danny grins at me; I pat his cheek, making him snicker. I glance at the watch on my wrist. It’s eight forty-five. The two of us had gone to the mall straight after school for two hours with Ethan. Then, Ethan left to get everything ready for the party, leaving us to ourselves.

After dinner, we came back to my place. Spending time with Ethan and Danny is always awesome. I get along with both of them greatly, and they’ve become two of my best friends. Until now, Danny had been my escape from the supernatural because he was the one friend who I thought knew nothing about it. Fortunately, I don’t think much will really change. While Ethan’s twin can be incredibly much to handle, Ethan and I get along without any problems. I pick up my phone to see a text from Stiles, asking what I’m up to. After reply, I look back at Danny.

“So what time are we going to the party?” I ask with a smile, which he returns.

“Well, it starts at nine, but I don’t want to get there right on time. How about we just drive around town for a little bit before we ahead there?”

“Help me pick something to wear.”

After a few minutes, we agree on a simple outfit that really seems to accompany my style and personality according to Danny. To make him laugh, I twirl around in my black skinny jeans, a white vneck t-shirt, and my neon purple-and-black slip-on Vans. At the top of the stairs, I look in the mirror, analyzing myself. Danny rolls his eyes and grabs my hand; he mutters a compliment and tells me not to worry because Stiles won’t be able to take his eyes off me. I grab my car keys that are sitting on the kitchen counter. God bless the sheriff who gave me an awesome Jeep Cherokee for me at a great price. Even though I expressed my gratitude and reluctance to accept, I couldn’t say no to the man who had been a second father to me all my life.

I text Stiles and let him know our plans; he agrees to meet us there around nine thirty. With no particular destination in mind, Danny and I cruise around town with the windows down and the radio jamming to a mixed playlist we had created together. When we arrive forty-five minutes later, Derek’s loft is already packed. Shit, I say to myself, thinking of Derek’s reaction when he finds out. This won’t end well. Cars are scattered around and people are heading inside. Music is blaring and lights are flashing in every window. Danny and I walk forward slowly, looking around for familiar faces. Suddenly, two large hands cover my eyes. I gasp and jump. An all too familiar laugh is ringing in my ears.

“Stiles!” I cheer, reaching up to remove his hands from my eyes.

Stiles quickly snakes his arms around my waist. I look up at him, grinning from ear to ear. He kisses my cheek and spins me around.

“You came,” Stiles say excitedly.

“You’re welcome,” Danny says jokingly.

I laugh and take Stiles hand, heading towards Derek’s loft.

“It took a lot of persuasion from Danny to get me out,” I chuckle.

“Well, if you weren’t going to come,” Stiles says, “I was going to grab some movies and come hang out with you at home.”

I offer him a small smile. To know Stiles would do something as simple as that makes me incredibly happy. We enter the loft and notice that there’s very little room to move around. The three of us look around, searching for familiar faces. We’ve been standing there for a moment when Ethan greets us. Danny and Ethan share a smirk and look that they think no one notices, but I do. They’re so adorable, I think with a grin on my face. Stiles tenses up immediately; I squeeze his hand and rub his arm with my other hand.

“Hey, Jess,” Ethan says. I notice how Stiles squirms at how Ethan calls me by a nickname.

“Hey, you,” I say, letting go of Stiles to hug Ethan.

“I’m glad you all could make it,” Ethan says, looking at the three of us.

Ethan smiles a small at Stiles who nods in return. At least he’s being polite, I think. Aiden could learn a little from his twin on that. There’s a short silence between us. Stiles is a bit uncomfortable being around Ethan, which I understand after everything that’s happened. Danny glances at me; I raise my eyebrow and smirk at him. I nod towards Ethan and tell Danny to go.

“C’mon,” Ethan says, taking Danny’s hand, “you need to get painted.”

I say goodbye to them and watch them disappear into the crowd.

“Want to dance?” I ask, gazing at Stiles.

“Dance?” Stiles asks surprised. I nod. “Jessie, you know I can’t dance.”

I frown and say, “I can’t dance to save my life, but it’s not all that bad. Please? Just for a song or two?”

I watch his face and see he’s contemplating what to do. Stiles doesn’t want to say no to me nor does he want to dance. His body language changes from hesitance to excitement.

“Well, c’mon, beautiful,” Stiles says, taking my hand.

I smile widely and head towards the crowd of people dancing. Stiles is close behind me as I weave through people; he’s still holding my hand while his other hand rests on my hip, not daring to let me get away from him. We work our way into the crowd without getting too far in. I stop and turn to face him. The song that’s playing is pop song that I haven’t heard before, but it doesn’t keep me from dancing. I dance obnoxiously with no sort of rhythm, making a complete fool of myself. Stiles smirks at the sight of me, but quickly joins me. Everyone around us is dancing casually; some are grinding of course. Then, there’s a few like Stiles and me who are dancing idiotically without a care in the world.

The song ends. For a split second, the two of us pause, waiting for the next song to begin. The first note of the next song echoes around us, making our eyes light up as we recognize it. Stiles and I cheer excitedly as “Since You’ve Been Gone” plays. We begin dancing wildly again, ignoring everyone around us; we can’t help but laugh as we dance. After dancing for several minutes, I watch Stiles closely as we continue dancing. Stiles keeps dancing, not noticing how I’m studying his features.

Watching him acting as goofily and crazy as myself makes me realize just how amazing he is, reminding me how incredibly lucky I am to have him in my life. Noticing how Stiles’ chocolate brown eyes shimmer in the lights and twinkle with happiness makes me understand just how much I care about him. But it’s not just that.

I love him.

Although we’ve only been dating for about a month, I come to the realization that I love him. Man, I fucking love him, I think to myself as a grin tugs at the corners of my mouth. Stiles has been my best friend since were in diapers. I can’t think of a time when we didn’t know each other nor do I want to think of a time that I’ll never be with him. I can’t lose him. Now that we’re a couple, I can’t imagine our relationship being any different. I need him; I never thought I’d need him like this. Watching Stiles dance with me as if nothing else exists—as the supernatural isn’t threatening to end us all—makes me think of how hard I’m willing to fight for him in this battle with the supernatural.

When the song ends, I tell Stiles that I’m thirsty, and we make our way out of the crowd that has multiplied significantly. I shudder slightly at the thought of what Derek is going to do when he discovers Ethan threw a party in his loft and how the rest of us did nothing to stop him. We finally find some drinks. I grab two water bottles, handing one to Stiles. A strange look covers his face as he pulls his hand from his pocket; a key sits in his hand. Neither of us can think of how it got there or why it’s glowing so we let it go. We’re silent for a moment, as we both look around the loft at all the craziness that is happening.

Looking around, I notice Isaac and Allison far across the room above the rest of us on a platform. I see them smirking at each other, obviously flirting with another. I find myself smiling and chuckling. As much as I love Scott and hate that he’s still hurt over Allison, I’m incredibly happy to see that Isaac and Allison have seem to found something in each other. I just want everyone to be happy. With everything that’s happened to me before I returned to Beacon Hills and with all the supernatural drama lately, all I want is for to everyone to be happy.

Stiles must notice that I’m deep in thought because he quietly wraps an arm around my waist. He pulls me into him, kissing my temple. I wrap my arms around his torso, and we smile up at each other. I stand on my tiptoes and cup his face in my hands. For a moment, we simply stare at each other and nearly forget about the party going on around us. Stiles keeps glancing at my lips. I chuckle at how eager he is; I kiss him softly on the nose, making him pout.

Danny and Ethan come running back up to us; now they’re both covered in paint, and they’re shirts are missing. I smile and greet them happily because I haven’t seen them for about forty-five minutes. They drag Stiles and I over to where a woman and a man are standing around a bunch of paint. Ethan gives her instructions to paint the two of us. Then, him and Danny walk away, disappearing into the crowd.

“Do I have to take my shirt off like them?” Stiles mutters only loud enough for me to hear. He scratches the back of his neck.

I give him a small smile, upset to see that he seems somewhat insecure. A bit of courage finds it way into me, and I don’t have the slightest clue where it came from. All I know is that I find myself closing the gap between us. I reach up to kiss him; he’s surprised at first, but he’s quickly kissing me back. My hands find the hem of his shirt and left up on it. Stiles pulls back slowly, eyeing me with wide eyes. I raise a brow and wink at him. I pull the shirt over his head, leaving a shirtless Stiles shocked.

I look over at the woman and say, “Give him something really cool. And do it quick before he backs out.”

I stand in front of the man who asks me what I want. I glance at Stiles who is staring at me. Stiles is looking at me like he can’t bear to turn away, like he’ll miss something if he looks away from me. The look in his eyes seems to reflect the same thing I was thinking of as we were dancing earlier. The man instructs me to look back at him, and he begins to paint a design on my face. I’m thinking about a bunch of random things—tests and homework, the work I need to do on the set for the Vagina Monologues, all the TV shows I’m behind on, the Beyoncé concert I wish I could go to next week—when a sudden uncomfortable feeling washes over me, like I’m being watched.

A shiver creeps up my spine, raising the hairs on my neck. I look around me while the man steps away to get more paint. Looking into the shadows I see nothing, but I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me.

Everything seems alright for now, but something is brewing and I know it. Soon they’re done painting us. I’m still feeling uneasy as we walk away. Now it’s not just about the feeling of being watched. There’s a feeling in my gut that suggests something bad is about to happen. Where are the others? I think desperately, searching for the pack. I’m walking around the edge of the crowd with Stiles. He’s holding my hand; neither of us is willing to get separated from one another. I’m not paying much attention to where I’m going because of how strong the feeling is growing.

“What the hell?” I holler as someone runs straight into me. I look up, ready to say something else, and see Isaac looking down at me.

“Sorry, Jessie,” Isaac says. He nods at Stiles, and they say hi to one another. “Have you seen the others?”

“No,” I say. “Are they okay? What’s happening?”

By the looks on their faces, I must sound a lot more apprehensive than I think I am.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks me.

“Something’s not right. I’m not sure what it is, but something is going to go wrong. I mean I felt like someone was watching me while we were getting painted. Nothing seemed unordinary as I looked around, but I just knew—I know that there was something in the shadows. I couldn’t see anything, but I swear something was there.”

Something flickers in Isaac’s eyes. Perhaps he’s scared and understands that something is happening. The three of us look around the loft in hopes of spotting the rest of the pack. I notice Lydia on the opposite side of the building. She’s standing alone, looking around frantically. A weird expression flashes across her face. I swear under my breath and pat the guys on the shoulder before pointing in her direction. I start moving towards Lydia, dragging Stiles behind me. It takes the three of us a few moments to get through the crowd, but soon we get to where I had seen her. When we finally make it to where I saw Lydia, she’s gone. Lydia is nowhere in sight.

“Lydia!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I run my hands through my hair and sigh heavily, knowing it’s no use with the music. “Lydia! Where the hell did she go? She was just here! Oh shit I knew something was happening.”

“Jessie, calm down,” Stiles says, holding both my arms and forcing me to face him. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find her.”

Isaac leaves us to go find the rest of the pack while Stiles and I look around fleetingly, hoping to see Lydia again amongst the crowd.

“Where’s Scott?” I holler at Stiles. “We need him!”

Stiles shakes his head and shouts, “No clue! I haven’t seen him in ages!”

I share a look with Stiles, knowing that the terrified look in his eyes is similar to the one in mine. Finally, I notice a door several yards away, and I dash for it with Stiles tailing me. I open the door, barreling through to the other side. Once through the doorway, I notice Lydia is curled in a ball on the ground. I kneel down next to her, and that’s when I notice she’s shaking.

“Shit, Lydia,” I gasp. “She’s freezing!”

“What do you think we should do?” Stiles says, squatting next to me.

“Run and get one of the wolves. They can help warm her up.”

A moment later he’s back with Aiden. Aiden takes her into his arms before carrying her back inside where it’s warm. After cradling her for a bit, she comes to. Lydia looks around wildly with wide, frightened eyes. Finally, her eyes land on me; she opens her mouth and stutters, struggling to find the words to say.

“Lydia, it’s me,” I say, bending down in front of her. She reaches towards me with a trembling hand. I take it and shiver. “You’re okay now. Talk to me. What happened?”

“They came out of the dark,” Lydia whispers.

I reassure her that she’s fine, that they won’t hurt her again. Aiden runs his hands through her hair, calming her down. He motions for me to come closer to him so I crawl to his side. Aiden pulls back some of her hair, revealing the number five that’s scratched into her skin just below her ear. We share a look of confusion and terror. What the hell is happening in Beacon Hills? A crash occurs right before Derek’s voice echoes throughout the loft, causing everyone to run out. As the crowds disperse, I notice five dark hooded figures in the shadows a few yards away from us.

I stand up, but don’t take my eyes off the hooded figures. Aiden stands up as well, holding an arm around Lydia. Behind me, people are still running out the door. Danny approaches me on my left, asking what’s going on. I tell him he needs to get out of here now. He tries to protest, and I cut him off, begging him to trust me. Danny shuts his mouth and nods. I look to my right and see a frightened Lydia. She’s already vulnerable because of how she was just attacked her. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how Danny turns to go; I grab him and twist him back around.

“Lydia, you need to go with Danny,” I say. She shakes her head, obviously wanting to be with the pack and me. “Yes, okay? You’re going. Danny, get her out of here now. Go!”

Danny nods and puts his arms around Lydia. The two of them follow the remaining people out of the loft. To my right, I see Stiles standing beside me now. My hand reaches out next to me and takes a hold of his hand. The rest of the pack surrounds us. An eerie silence rings throughout the loft, and I’m the first to break it.

“What the hell are the dementors doing here?” I say, thinking of Harry Potter. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some party crashers.”

The hooded figures all turn in Aiden’s direction and start to move towards him.

“Guys, they’re all looking at me?” Aiden asks desperately. “Why are they looking at me?”

The hooded figures step closer. One touches Aiden just behind his ear. I swear under my breath and grab his arm as he falls to the floor. I crouch down next to him; I hit him so that he can phase. Scott starts growling, and I look up to see that the hooded figures have set their eyes on Kira next. Light begins seeping into the loft; we all look out the windows and see that the sun is rising. The hooded figures fizzle into thin air. With one last punch from me, Aiden finally phases, but quickly returns to human form.

Aiden glances up at me. “You have a nasty left hook, Jessie.”

“I’ve been told,” I say complacently. His brow furrows in confusion. “My mom’s brother was in the military for over a decade. I was eleven when he started teaching me how to defend myself. It came in handy the two times I got in a fight.”

I recall the two fights I got in school. One was because I stuck up for a friend when a group of guys made fun of him because of his sexuality and called him names; the second was because a guy started talking trash about my dad, and then proceeded to say racial slurs because I happened to be eating lunch with the foreign exchange students.

“So you’ve done it before?” I nod. Aiden scoffs. “Damn, remind me to never piss you off.”

I smirk as I punch him playfully. I stand up and offer him a hand. The two of us look around at the others who still seem to be in shock.

“What the hell were those things?” Scott questions.

Isaac stares at Allison and says, “Your dad’s twenty four hours are up.”

The rest of us share a confused look. Where do all these things keep coming from? Allison begins to tell us everything her father told her about the hooded figures, which are called the Oni. Will it ever end?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Inhale. Exhale. Tick tock. Inhale. Exhale. Tick tock.

For several minutes, I lie in bed and force myself to breathe. The sound of my clock on the bedside table is the only noise other than my heavy breathing. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, knocking against my ribs. Just breathe, I think to myself. I sit up and close my eyes, trying to focus on breathing. A moment later I open my eyes. Staring across at the room at nothing in particular for a few moments gives me solace. I run a shaky hand through the hair on the back of my head, which is when I notice the cool sweat on the back of my neck.

“Fucking nightmare,” I mumble. I throw the covers off of me.

I heave a heavy sigh, noticing how my breathing is normal. My heat seems to be calm again. In the dark, it appears as the shadows are dancing on the walls in the moonlight. I want to close my eyes, I want to get some rest, and I want to forget about all the bizarre things that have been happening. However, when I close my eyes, the nightmare replays across my eyelid. Stiles shivering on the floor in a dark, unfamiliar place creeps back into my thoughts. I pull my legs up to my chest and I bite my lip. I remember watching a shaken Stiles lie on a wooden floor in the dark and hearing him holler through his tears at someone I couldn’t see. The fear that was present in my nightmare creeps up my spine, sending shivers through my body.

On the nightstand, my phone sits. I pick it up and find that I have no messages or calls. Taking it with me, I enter the bathroom that adjoins my room with Scott’s. The cool water that I splash on my face feels refreshing. I stare at myself over the running water. What the hell did that dream mean? I wonder. Is Beacon Hills really the same town I grew up in as a child?

“Shit!” I jump at the sound of my phone buzzing on the counter.

Stiles picture peers up at me. I grab my phone and answer it immediately.

“Stiles?” I say worriedly. “Stiles, are you okay?”

“Jessie?” Stiles’ voice quivers; he sounds frightened. “Wh-where am I? It’s dark and cold. Jessie, I don’t know where I am!”

There’s crackling and buzzing so it’s hard to hear him. It sounds like the phone is cutting out. My heart is racing again, pounding loudly in my ears.

“I’m here,” I assure him. “I can hear you. What do you see?”

There’s a short pause. I can hear Stiles breathing heavily, sniffling from the tears. The fear is evident in his voice.

“It’s too dark to see anything. And I’m freezing.”

“Stiles, what do you see? Just tell me anything that you see. Do you remember how you got there?”

“I don’t know—I don’t remember! Jessie, I’m scared. What’s happening to me? Oh no! I think he’s coming back!”

“Who is it, Stiles? Talk to me, love. Where are you? What do you—”

Nothing. And with that, the line goes dead. I stare at my phone, swearing repeatedly. I dash through the other door and into Scott’s room. Scott is pulling a sweatshirt over his head; he turns around to look at me. We look at each other, not saying anything for a moment.

“Did he call you too?” Scott asks softly. I nod unable to speak. “What’d he say to you?”

“He said he didn’t know where he was,” I say. “He couldn’t remember how he got there. And he was cold.”

Scott puts on a pair of jeans and continues, “I’m going to go wake up Isaac so that he can help me track Stiles’ scent.”

“Okay. I’ll call Lydia, and she can come with me. I can call the sheriff, or do you want—”

“No, don’t do that.” Scott stares at me wide-eyed. “You can’t call him.”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” I ask him. “Are you seriously telling me not to call the sheriff who also happens to be Stiles’ dad? You do realize that Stiles is missing, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Scott says. He puts his phone in his pocket. “I promised Stiles on the phone that I wouldn’t call his dad.”

I don’t reply. I’m too frustrated and scared to say anything. Scott says goodbye and tells me to call him if anything happens. I return to my room to change into something warmer. As I’m getting dressed, I call Lydia to explain everything. Lydia says that she can look on her own although I suggest that’s not a good idea. She won’t listen and claims that she’s with Aiden, which makes me feel somewhat better. Lydia hangs up quickly. With my keys and phone in hand, I dart out of the house and into my Jeep. When I think of how Stiles is missing, it makes my stomach churn.

To keep myself from being scared, I think of what we’re going to do: Scott and Isaac are out searching together and Lydia is doing something too. What else do we need to do? I think. I call Derek and let him know what’s happening. Derek tells me that he’s leaving his loft now to search and assures me that we’ll find Stiles in one piece. I text Scott who informs me that he’s headed to Stiles’ room. He also says that he’s spoken with Kira. So far there’s seven us out looking for Stiles. I bite my lip, yearning to call the sheriff. Scott may have promised Stiles he wouldn’t call the sheriff, but I didn’t.

I take a sharp turn and drive down the street to the station. I don’t even bother parking. Instead, I leave my Jeep sitting in the middle of the parking lot with my door open. I jog through the halls of the station. Deputy Parish glances up when I enter. He turns away, but immediately looks back up when he registers the terror on my face. Parish points at the sheriff’s door so I run into his office.

“Sheriff,” I pant as I barrel through his door.

The sheriff gazes up at me for a moment from across his desk. He removes his glasses and sits the papers in his hand on his desk.

“Hey, Jessie,” the sheriff says cheerfully. But then he sees the anxiety that’s running through me. “What’s wrong? Jessie, talk to me.”

The sheriff gets up and walks over to me; he places an arm on my shoulder. I take a deep breath and say, “It’s Stiles…” Fear washes over the sheriff’s face, but he quickly masks it. I tell him everything that’s happened, that we need to find Stiles who’s lost somewhere without a clue what’s going on. Footsteps stop in front of his door, and we turn to see Scott and Isaac standing in the doorway. The sheriff states that he’s going to have a search team go out to look for Stiles.

Scott and Isaac say that they’re leaving to continue searching. I decide to stay at the station with the sheriff for a few more minutes. I take a seat in one of the wooden chairs across from Parish’s desk.

“Jessie?” I look over to my right to see Scott watching me. He continues, “Be careful.”

I nod and tell him to do the same. My phone is silent. Is that a good thing, meaning that everyone is following clues? Or is it a bad thing, meaning that the others are hurt as well? A door closes in the distance. When I look up, my uncle is entering the room. He approaches Parish and asks about a case that he’s working; Parish informs him that his case has taken the backseat now that the sheriff’s son is missing. Rafael whips around to stare at me.

“Why are you here?” Rafael asks. “Did you know about this?”

“Yeah, I did,” I respond. “I just spoke with the sheriff.”

Rafael suggests I go to help the others while he stays here. I’m on my feet and heading towards the exit before he even finishes his sentence. As I pull out of the station parking lot, I speed off, not caring if I get pulled over. I get stuck in traffic the closer I get to the hospital. I’m at a stoplight so I figure I should call Scott. He says that they haven’t found anything yet, and I tell him the same thing. As I’m talking to him, I get a text from Lydia saying that she’s certain Stiles is at the Eichen House. I tell Scott the news; he claims that him and Isaac are headed there now. I hang up and drop my phone in my lap.

Finally, I arrive at the hospital a few minutes later. People are running around like mad in the hospital. My eyes comb through the waves of people in the waiting room. I take off down the halls of the waiting room. I’m about to turn down another hall when someone grabs my arm, pulling me back.

“Hey!” I cry, whipping around to see who it is. I look up to see my uncle looking down at me. “Oh, it’s you… Why are you here?”

“There wasn’t much I could do at the station after all,” Rafael says. “Where’s your aunt?”

“I’m trying to find her too. Why don’t we look together?”

Together. That’s not something I thought I’d ever say, but there’s no time to waste. A few minutes later we find Melissa speaking with the sheriff.

“Security is doing sweeps of every floor,” Melissa says. “Nothing yet.”

“Have you checked the basement?” The sheriff asks.

With that, Melissa leads us to the hospital basement. She opens the door to the basement and allows the police to go down. Melissa faces the two of us, asking what we’re doing here.

“My shift ends in five minutes,” Melissa tells us. “What do you want me to do?”

“I have questions for you,” I say, “that I think can help me find Stiles.”

“Well,” Rafael says casually, “I think that I might know where Stiles is.”

Rafael and I head to his car so that we can bring it to the door. While we’re doing this, Melissa clocks out; she’s waiting for us when we pull up to the door. The two of them are arguing about my uncle’s old habits, making things awkward for me. Sitting in the back of the car, I don’t say a word as I try to ignore them. Instead, I watch the scenery outside unfold before my eyes. The stars are shining brightly, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from them. Stiles is out there somewhere. Can he see the stars too? Will these stars guide us home1?

Thinking of Stiles aches my entire being because I feel as though I have failed him. He’s out there—alone and cold—and I didn’t prevent it. What if we’re too late? I tear my thoughts away from that and refocus on Melissa and Rafael. Rafael just finished telling her story about one of his drunken nights and how he slept walk to the closet where he proceeded to pee because he thought he was in the bathroom.

“So what are you saying?” Melissa questions him.

“I’m saying,” Rafael counters, “the real question might be how do we know that he’s still not asleep?”

My brow furrows in confusion. Is it really possible that Stiles could be sleepwalking?

“You mean he’s been asleep the whole time?”

“How does any of this relate to Stiles?” I ask, leaning forward and resting my head in my hands.

Rafael shrugs and says, “People that sleepwalk can do crazy things. How do I know that Stiles isn’t just convinced that he’s locked in a basement somewhere?” He pauses. “I think when he called Scott he was still asleep.”

“Then where is he?”

“I got an idea about that too.”

Rafael looks at Melissa for a moment before gazing at me in his mirror. We’re silent for a bit. I lean back and prop my feet up on the console. Wherever he is and whatever he is doing, I just hope that Stiles is ok. I find myself getting uncomfortable already so I decide to scoot over. I rest my head on the window and cross my arms over my chest. Rafael is driving us further into the outskirts of Beacon Hills. As I watch the road, I notice that this path seems familiar. Malia. The Tates. The accident. Rafael is taking us back to the site of the car accident where Malia accidentally killed her family.

When Rafael starts to slow down, I open the door and bolt out of the car. Melissa is shouting after me. I hear her and my uncle run after a few seconds later. I run alongside the road, surveying my surroundings for any sign of Stiles. I’ve only gone a few yards when I hear whimpering. Standing in place, I scan the woods in front of me and try to pinpoint the noise. Melissa and Rafael stand on either side of me. The whimper comes again, and we all creep forward. I hear a small cry. And it’s a familiar cry.

“Stiles!” I yell when I see him a few yards in front of us.

I lean down next to him to see that he’s shaking. Stiles starts thrashing around, whimpering louder. My arms wrap around him, hoping it’ll wake him up.

“Stiles! Wake up! I’m here! Just wake up, Stiles!”

Stiles starts to flail more. With a jolt, he jumps; his eyes open widely as he lunges forward. I’m trying to calm him down when he starts to shout. Stiles’ back is to my front, and my arms are snaked around his torso. Stiles stops thrashing around as his wails turn into cries. My arms tighten around him. He clutches onto me, not wanting to be alone.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” I whisper. I take one of his hands in my left hand. “I’m here. I’ve got you now.”

Stiles looks up at me. Tears are brimming his eyes. With my right hand, I gently cup his cheek. I mutter more soothing words to keep him calm. He relaxes into me, resting his head on my shoulder. My arms are still around him, and both of our hands are intertwined. Finally, after several minutes, I hear his breath return to normal. I look over Stiles’ head to see Melissa kneeling in front of him. Rafael is standing beside Melissa.

“What happened?” Stiles asks quietly.

“You were sleepwalking,” Rafael says.

Melissa and I share a glance. Perhaps Stiles was sleepwalking. However, the two of us aren’t quick to believe that. We’re certain it could be something more powerful and more supernatural related than that. Stiles moves slightly to peer up at me. I can see in his eyes that he’s still shaken. The look in his eyes tells me that he’s not so sure he believes Rafael either. I squeeze his hand to let him know everything’s okay. But is that true? Is he okay?

“How’d you guys find me?”

“Rafael here thought of it,” I say.

“Stiles,” Melissa says, “we need to get you to the hospital.”

Stiles unwraps himself from my grip and stands up. He reaches out to help me up. I’m barely on my feet when he hugs me. His hold on me is strong, as if we’ll never get to do this again. I feel myself mold into his embrace. I close my eyes, thinking that there is nothing like an embrace after an absence, nothing like fitting my face into the curve of his shoulder and filling my lungs with the scent of him.2 I didn’t realize how on edge and tense I was until now as I relax into his touch. How amazing is it that a hug from Stiles can relieve me of so much discomfort?

Rafael coughs, which is when Stiles and I release one another. Stiles wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side as we follow behind Rafael and Melissa. He kisses my temple before taking my hand in his. We’re still holding as we get back into Rafael’s car. The journey back to the hospital is a long and silent one. Stiles’ arm is around me, and my head lay against his chest. For a moment, it appears as though things may return to normal, and although I’m dying to believe it, I know this feeling is temporary.

Index  
1 - Ed Sheeran, “All of the Stars”  
2 - Jodi Picoult, Keeping Faith


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

The bright sun sends warm tingles through my body. Quiet music is playing in my headphones and it takes me away for a little while. The soft grass makes me feel as though I’m drifting in a sea of green mass. A light breeze soothes my rustling spirit. Moments like this have grown very far and in between for me in the past few weeks. Every moment that hasn’t been spent at school has been consumed with combatting the supernatural. It’s been about a week since the black light party and we’ve been as busy as ever.

Scott had stuff to do right after school so I decided to come straight home. The Vagina Monologues second and final show was three nights ago. Owen, one of the theater kids I met at the bonfire a few weeks ago, and I had heard about The Vagina Monologues online. Owen and I share a keen interest in the issues that Eve Ensler presents in The Vagina Monologues, which led us to the decision to bring the show to Beacon Hills. The two of us organized, managed, and hosted the two-night performance. We and eight other theater students (guys and girls) read the monologues. It was a very new experience for me because I only ever worked as stage manager in plays, helping make develop and manage the set. To our amazement, both shows were sold out. The shows were open to the public, and it was incredible to see so many people who didn’t attend the school come.

Now that the shows are over, I have a sliver of free time now—unless the supernatural gets in the way and usually it does. I walk through the front door and into the kitchen where I sit my backpack down in a chair. Realizing I have a chance to relax by myself, I take advantage of it by going out into the backyard. I’ve barely been out here for a few minutes when I get a text from Kira who’s asking what I’m up to. I let her know what I’m doing and she encourages me to text her if I need company. I thank her and go back to listening to my music. Kira and I have gotten along very well; we’re a lot alike and hang out a lot. I know Scott is very happy with that, considering his feelings and somewhat strange relationship (or at least I think sometimes) with Kira.

I look up at the sky and study what few clouds are plastered against the pastel blue sky. My fingers thread the grass beneath me. I haven’t had much time to myself over the past several weeks so this time to myself is much appreciated. Nearly the past two months have been anything but normal, even for Beacon Hills. The case that got reopened ended up getting solved. If finding out that a young girl accidentally killed her mother and sister when she phased into a wolf and then escaped into the woods without phasing back to human and living in the woods for the past few years solved, then consider that case closed.

Let’s not forget how an escaped murderer nearly repeated history. William Barrow, the murderer, managed to escape the local mental institute and nearly killed students by building a bomb at the school. He even kidnapped Kira; he would have killed her too if she hadn’t turned out to have some super powers of her own, which ended up electrocuting Barrow and killing him. After that, things seemed to spiral out of control. Stiles’ dreams and inability to read increased dramatically. Isaac got hurt and he’s still unresponsive in the hospital. Things kept escalating out of control and Stiles ended up getting lost last night.

I’m not sure how I made it through school today. All of us got very little–if any—sleep last night. Not to mention, our minds were anywhere but school. No matter how hard we tried, we could on think about if Isaac would recover and about Stiles’ safety.

At the hospital, Stiles got some tests done. The doctors suspected that something was wrong with him. Stiles’ words still rings clear as day in my ear.

Stiles sits on the table in front of the MRI scanner. He’s wearing a hospital gown. I stand in front of him, not saying a word. No one else is in the room; they all gave us a moment to ourselves. I had let Scott go first and I nearly crumbled watching them hug from the other room. I become more anxious, remembering the others can see through the window. Stiles runs a hand gently up and down my arm. He’s so soft that it’s almost as if his fingers are gliding over paper. I don’t speak, hoping we can defy the inevitable. Although I know the chances are high, it’s hard to accept. Although [I’m] quiet, [I’m] not blind.1

“You know what they’re looking for, right?” Stiles asks, breaking the silence.

I nod, but don’t speak. I feel as though it will make it definite—more real—if I speak it aloud. Knowing that I’m afraid to speak, Stiles rests one hand on my waist and holds my hand in the other. I stare at our intertwined fingers, wondering what will happen to us. If the doctors are correct, will he remember me? Will the dementia ruin all Stiles’ memories of us? And will the nogitsune take over him completely? Is it possible that I’ll get another chance to hold his hand? To feel his warmth? To see that crooked grin? To hear his golden laugh?

“They’re afraid I have what my mom had.”

I look into his eyes and see how hard he’s fighting. Stiles is fighting so hard to stay strong, to make it through this shitty mess. He’s fighting not to breakdown from stress and fatigue, but most of all, he’s fighting the fear of failing me. I reach up and cup his cheek in my hand; with my thumb, I trace circles on his cheek. This simple, down-to-earth, and cheeky brown-eyed boy has been such a huge part of my life since we were both in diapers. We’ve never known what it’s like to be completely without each other or what it’s like to possibly lose each other forever. Until now that is.

There’s no way we can ever give each other up. Looking at him, I realize how hard things are going to keep getting. We both know the odds and the possible outcomes. Neither of us are going to say goodbye and we both know that. Although I know things could go in a direction neither of us wants it to go in, I have this feeling in my gut that things will work out on their own. It might be a hell of ride, but things will work out eventually.

“I love you,” I say quietly.

For the first time in almost two months, one of us has said it. I don’t know why I chose to say it now, but I feel as though he should know. Stiles deserves to know while he’s still himself that I love him with every ounce of my being. Before a disease or the nogitsune takes over, he needs to know exactly how much I care. We’ve said it countless time growing up, but simply as best friends; now it means so much more. The three little words don’t seem to convey exactly how I feel or how much I care, but they’re the closest things. That goofy smile I love appears and covers his whole face.

“Jessie, you’re the greatest person I’ve ever had the pleasure to know,” Stiles says. “Darling, I love you more than words could ever say.”

I bite my cheek and a giggle escapes my lips. Stiles’ hand that’s resting on my hips makes its way to the back of my head, tangling in my hair. I lean forward and kiss him hard. We only kiss for a few short moments, not wanting to bother those in the other room. Plus, we usually keep things simple anyway. This kiss, however, seems to express everything words can’t say. We pull apart and rest our foreheads together.

“What do you think is going to happen?” I whisper, holding both of his hands between us.

“I really don’t know, Jess,” Stiles says. “I’m just tired—tired physically and mentally. I don’t know who I am anymore. And what’s worse, I don’t even know if I’m going to make it through—”

“Stop right there. Stiles, don’t say it or even think it, okay? You are going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments that you can’t even imagine yet.2”

“But Jess, you’re hurting too, which tears away at me every single day. Anything can happen to me, but not you. It’s too much. I can’t handle it.”

“I don’t regret any of it. Okay? I promise. I’d go through anything for you. We’re going to get through this, alright?”

He’s quiet when he asks, “You believe so?”

“Yeah I do, Stiles. I don’t know how I know, but we’re going to get through this. We’re too damn strong for anything to take us down. I’ve got your back, okay? I’ll always fight for you—don’t ever forget that.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything. Instead, he kisses my temple before kissing my nose and my cheek, causing me to giggle again.

“There’s the laugh I love,” Stiles says, smiling from ear to ear. I can’t help but grin too. “I love you, Jessie.”

I wrap my arms around his neck tightly, like I’ll never have the chance again. I leave a small kiss on his neck right below his ear. Stiles’ arms envelop me; his breath is warm against my neck. He plays with my hair as we hold each other in silence. After a few moments, I decide it’s time for me to go so that the doctor can get on with the tests. I pull back and look him in the eye.

“I love you,” I say. Stiles grins and kisses my lips again.

I look down at our hands. Our fingers are tangled together. It takes everything in me to let them go and walk towards the door. Once at the door, I look back at Stiles. He smiles at me and blows me a kiss in the air. I pretend to catch it and put it in my pocket. Stiles chuckles and lays back on the table. I enter the room where the doctor, Melissa, and Mr. Stilinski are all standing.

Melissa comes up to me and hugs me tightly.

“Scott is in the waiting room if you want to go there,” Melissa informs me.

“I want to stay here … if that’s alright of course,” I say.

The doctor says it’s fine for me to stay. Mr. Stilinski wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a hug. The wait seems forever, but finally the doctor finishes. He’s silent as reads the scans, looking for the answer he needs to give us the right information.

“You see that there?” He asks pointing at a certain spot.

We nod. The doctor goes onto explain that it’s sign of dementia, causing my heart to drop. My eyes look over at Mr. Stilinski and see that he’s staring down at his feet. I wrap my arms around him, knowing that he’s struggling to keep himself together. In that moment, the lights flickered. We all looked into the opposite room to see Stiles is no longer in there…

As I replay that night in my head once more, I nearly forget that I’m lying in the backyard. I open my eyes and I realize that it’s later than I expected. I check my phone to see it’s nearly six o’clock. I hear the back door open and look up to see Scott coming out the door. He takes a seat beside me in the grass. Since that night a little less than a week ago, Stiles has been in the mental institute. I know he’s safe for a little while, but I’ve been on edge because I know something bad is bound to happen. Scott is watching me, I know, and I see him rest his arms on his knees.

“Hey,” Scott says softly.

“What’s up?” I say still lying down.

“You know how you said you’ve been waiting for something to happen?” I nod and he continues. “Well, it’s happened.”

I sit up quickly. My brow is furrowed. I look at Scott nervously.

“What is it? Is Stiles okay? And what about Isaac? Is he okay too?”

“Isaac is totally fine—much better actually. It’s Stiles. He’s missing. They’re not for sure how he got out.”

I heave a heavy sigh, resting my face in my hands. I’m hurt, but amazingly I’m not surprised. Perhaps I’m not surprised because I keep expecting things to get worse. I still haven’t said a word because I’m trying to understand what Scott just said. I don’t realize I’m shaking until he places an arm around my shoulders. Rage, chaos, sorrow, and every emotion in between bubble within me.

Without any warning, I jump up and run for the house. I hear Scott calling after me, but his words aren’t clear to me. The flights of stairs seem like nothing as I take two at a time. Once in the comfort of my room, I shut the door and lock it, not wanting to be bothered by anyone. I stand in front of the door with my fists curled; I’m breathing so heavily with frustration I can hear it myself. Everything that happens next is a blur to me as I rush towards my dresser and shove all the objects on it onto the floor. I may not be able to save Stiles, but if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I’m free to act as desperately as I wish.3

This happens for the next few moments until I become exhausted and unable to tear up anything else. I stop in front of my bed, taking a few deep breaths. There’s a picture on my nightstand that’s resting among the shattered glass of the lamp I broke. It’s a picture of Stiles and I from the middle of the summer. I sit down on my bed and stare at it for a moment, recalling that rainy day clearly in my mind. The two of us had joined Scott, Kira, Isaac, Allison, Lydia, Danny, and the twins to play in the rain. Stiles had captured me from behind; his arms wrapped around me as I snuggled into him. We’re laughing and leaning forward almost like we’re about to fall over. Ethan had snapped the shot of us on his iPhone.

The memory itself sends me into an emotional breakdown. I curl into a ball, crying loudly and shaking hard. Eventually, I descend into the dark calmness that only sleep allows.

Index  
1 - Jane Austen  
2 - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars  
3 - Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Silence, I’ve learned, can be one of the loudest things in our lives. In moments of silence, your thoughts scream, echoing in your mind and rattling off the hollowness of your heart. The darkness nearly swallows you whole. Why am I such a basket case? How does everything keep falling apart when I thought it had already shattered beyond recognition? I’ve lost him. I’ve failed. Better yet: I’ve failed Stiles because I haven’t saved him yet. Allison and Scott recovered from their supernatural experiences extremely quickly. But why didn’t Stiles? Why did he have to be different?

For Stiles on the other hand, his run in with the supernatural has continued to escalate and none of us have been able to save him thus far. He thought checking himself into a mental institute would be the best thing for him because he thought that it would also save himself from hurting anyone else. Unfortunately, his plan has proven otherwise. Stiles was confronted by the nogitsune again while in the mental institute; the damn bastard gained power over him once more. Thinking about it all has caused me to shut down and shy away from everyone. I haven’t left my room in several hours—perhaps even a day or so, but I can’t really tell. Time has been nonexistent for me. Whenever anyone knocked on my bedroom door, I ignored him or her, refusing to talk to anyone because I can’t come to terms with how much we’ve failed.

Stiles, who is always looking out for me and everyone else, is defenseless and we can’t even save him. How is that we’re so lost and useless? In frustration, I threw a fit when I first shut myself in my room, breaking a few picture frames, glass bottles, and other small figurines in my room. It didn’t last long before I had broke down into tears and curled in a ball on my bed, cuddling the giraffe Stiles gave me when I was four. Stiles always knows how to save me, whether it’s from a mental breakdown, from something as small as tripping over my two left feet, or from getting hurt in any sort of way. He always has been able to do that. Knowing that I can’t return the favor to Stiles hurts me beyond words. Am I really that much of a failure?

At the moment, night is very close; in an hour or so, it’ll be nightfall. The sky is casting shades of pink and orange in my room when there’s a small knock on my door. My eyes gaze at the door, wondering who’s trying to get me to come out this time.

“Jessie,” Scott says, “you’ve been in there for a day. Please talk to me. I need you. We all need you… I miss you, Jess.”

My heart breaks just a little more at his words. I need Scott more than anything right now. The one person that I want to take my pain away is Stiles who can’t help me in the slightest at the moment. My cousin, who’s like a brother to me, always knows how to comfort me as well. Finally unable to make it on my own anymore, I find the strength to get out of bed and unlock the door. I open it to find Scott resting a hand on the doorframe.

“Can I come in?” He asks quietly.

I nod and back up so he can enter. I shut the door behind him. Scott follows suit and sits beside me on my bed.

“Jessie, you can’t be cooped up in here like this. We’re not going to find any answers without you.”

“Really?” I ask. There’s a bit more sarcasm in my voice than I meant. “I’m just me. I’m not anything supernatural like most of you. Mr. Argent and Allison are hunters so at least they’re useful. Deaton is some freaking guru or Obi Wan Kenobi. What can I—a mere human—do? Nothing. I’m useless and I just get in the way.”

“Stop it, alright? We need you. More importantly, Stiles needs you, Jessie. You know that! And you know why?” I shrug, meeting his eyes only for a second. “Your brain works differently than any of ours. You’ve always picked up on things that other people don’t. You see hints or clues that we all overlook. You study things differently and come to different conclusions than us, which has proven successful so far. Without you, Jess, we’re lost.”

I’m silent for a moment. Scott is right, but I’m just scared. Maybe it’s my insecurities or maybe it’s the fact that Stiles is the one in danger, but I can’t think straight. Over the past few weeks, I’ve constantly been on edge.

“I’m just afraid that I’m not going to be able to help Stiles. What if I mess something up? What if we’re too late because of me?”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

I share a glance with Scott. Neither of us speaks. What Scott doesn’t understand is that it’s more than just my self-doubt; it’s more than me just being insecure. After a several long minutes of silence, I finally speak up again.

“That week Stiles started having nightmares and trouble reading,” I say softly, “he told me that he was scared that things were going to get worse for all of us. Stiles begged me to not put myself in extreme danger that could be irreversible or fatal to me just to save him. However, when we were little kids, we vowed to always have each other’s back, to always protect each other. That nothing would keep us from helping and saving one another. But that was then … and this is now. And now things are crazy and frightening and beyond either of our control. Scott, I have no clue what I’m going to do. All I know is I can’t break my promise with Stiles.”

Scott sighs. “Stiles can’t stand the thought of anyone getting hurt, especially you. He was petrified of what could happen to you when he made you to promise to stay out of harms way. You realize that, right? I know he wouldn’t want you to get hurt. But here’s the deal: I also know you’re not worried about getting hurt for him and that you’d do anything to help him, which happens to include fighting a nogitsune. Stiles needs you, Jessie, and you promised you’d have his back. We have to leave here right now and do something, okay?”

For a moment, we simply stare at each other. Scott watches me closely. He runs a hand through his hair and breathes heavily because there’s nothing he can do to ease my nerves.

“Alright. I’m in. I’m here to help figure out what’s going on and save Stiles. Thanks for putting up with me right now. You know me—I get so consumed with emotions that I go crazy and can’t think straight. You can’t change me. You can only offer help in any way it’s needed, even if it’s just listening or giving a hand to hold. ”

“I don’t want to change you, Jessie. You’re wonderful the way you are … even if you can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” Scott elbows me in the ribs playfully, making me chuckle.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“Good. We need to go now.”

Scott reaches out to take my hands. I take them and stand up. As we descend the stairs, I begin questioning him on everything I may have missed while I was locked up in my room.

“Well,” Scott begins, “Stiles is on the loose, and we have no idea where he is…”

I sit and listen to everything Scott has learned from Kira’s mother, attempting to shorten the story as much as possible. He explains what we’re supposed to do and how it could save Stiles.

“I know that’s a lot to take in,” Scott says, “but I hope you get it.”

“I think so… How’s Isaac?

“He’s the same. He’s still bad, but he’s the same.”

“Do you think he’s going to make it?” I ask quietly.

Scott is a silent for a moment before he softly says, “Wanting him to be okay and knowing if he’ll be okay are two different things.”

“Where are the others?”

“Speaking of them, we better get going.” I follow Scott towards the door. “I’ll take you to the Argents. That’s where some of the others are.”

Once outside, he hands me his extra helmet. As I’m about to get on his motorcycle, I see Scott smile.

“What?” I ask.

“You look like a little kid almost,” Scott says chuckling.

“Sometimes,” I say hopping on his back, “I still feel like one, but in times like these I’m reminded about how much I’ve grown, especially for my age. Things aren’t this complicated when you’re young—and you don’t always get what you want when you’re that young, like I figured out soon enough as a kid.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we’re going to get through it okay, Jess?”

“We are? And with Stiles? Because I’ll never get through this if we don’t get Stiles back. It’ll just be one long hell for me.”

“Me too. He’s my best friend, my brother.”

Scott looks over his shoulder, staring intently at me. Something in his eyes lets me know that it’ll all work out on its own. And right now, that’s all I really need. I wrap my arms around Scott, closing my eyes as he takes off into the descending sun.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Entering the Argent’s place has always held a strange feeling to me. Although Allison and her father really enjoy having me around, something about the idea of how much the supernatural fills a house of humans has always created a weird sensation for me. Scott and I enter the house on our own accord. Following Scott, I make my way towards the stairs. We enter Mr. Argent’s office where we find Chris, Allison, Derek, and Mr. Stilinski standing over the desk. The three of them stop mid-sentence at the sight of me. All of them seem to be at a loss for words; no one wants to say the wrong thing and hurt my feelings. Finally, Derek grins and speaks up.

“Hey, Jess,” Derek says softly with a small smile.

I grin and reply with a quiet “hi.” I watch as Mr. Stilinski approaches me slowly. Once in front of me, he stops and looks at me for a moment.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jessie,” Mr. Stilinski says. “I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you here. I need you. It’s hard for you, I know, but I … Stiles and I … we need you, Jess. Every single one of us here needs you.”

My heart breaks at the sincerity in his voice. His eyes convey a sense of honesty. For a moment, we simply stare at each other. However, in a fraction of a second, we envelop each other in a tight embrace. I hear Mr. Stilinski heave a quiet sigh and I feel myself relax, knowing we’re going to get through this together.

“Where else would I be?” I say smiling.

I approach the desk looking at the chess piece and all the weapons sitting on it. Looking around, I raise my brow, asking for a quick briefing of what’s about to happen. On that note, Chris and Derek step up. They both take turns in order to explain to me the plan that everyone’s agreed to. I nod when they’re finished, but don’t speak at first.

“If it’s not Stiles we find and it’s the nogitsune, what are we going to do?” I ask sincerely. “I mean, we all want it to be Stiles, but there’s a great chance it’ll be the nogitsune. What do we do? Chat with him? Ask him to leave? Kill him?”

I notice how Mr. Stilinski’s face reacts at my last question. I mumble a quick “sorry.”

“When or if it comes to that,” Derek says, “we’ll figure out what to do.”

The rest of us are silent for a few moments.

“Any last advice before we head out, Jessie?” Chris asks.

I think about it for a moment, racking my brain for any last motivational words. It always seems they come to me to have the last word before we head out to do something; it’s as if they expect me to give them some sort of motivation, positivity, or whatever. All I can think about, however, is a funny quote from a book series I love all too much. Hopefully, someone will get the joke, I think to myself.

“Here’s some advice: don’t die.”

I smirk because I just quoted one of my favorite characters ever: Haymitch. Derek laughs immediately, simply loving my humor. Allison suppresses a giggle, but she smiles widely at me to let me know she gets the reference. The others stare blankly at us three.

I roll my eyes. “Forget it. Let’s go.”

Chris starts to collect his weapons while the rest of file out of the room and out of the house. I agree to go with Derek and Mr. Argent while Mr. Stilinski goes with Allison; Scott has already left to go get Kira. I crawl into the back of Chris Argent’s vehicle while he and Derek get in the front seats. The car ride is silent considering neither one of them are big talkers, especially with one another. I sit in the middle seat and look back and forth between the two of them. Here are two seemingly opposite people: a hunter and a werewolf. However, all either one of them would do is fight to protect those they care about, doing nearly anything to do that.

I look out the window, noticing how quickly the sky is changing colors. What will we do if we find the nogitsune and not Stiles? It’s very likely. How will we act? Will we try to talk with it? Will someone just try to kill him straight off? As much as I don’t want to think about that, I can’t help it; it’s too much of a reality. Anything could happen at this point. Suddenly, we’re come to a stop; Derek glances back at me.

“C’mon, Jess,” Derek nods, getting out.

I follow his lead and exit the car, looking up at the Stilinski house. I gulp and don’t move another step. Staring up at the house, I feel my hands begin to shake. I haven’t been here since a few days before Stiles checked himself in the hospital. It’s been way too hard coming here since Stiles has been getting worse. The last couple of times I did it was to visit Stiles’ dad; I know he gets lonely and I hate to see him get upset.

“Jessie?” Chris says trying to get my attention.

I look down at my feet and take a few deep breaths. I’m terrified that something terrible is going to happen there, whether it’s to us or Stiles—if he’s in there at least.

“Jessie,” Derek says next to me, “we’re only going in for a few minutes. I need Stiles’ scent and Chris wants clues. I’ll never leave your side, okay?”

I nod and start walking towards the house. Remembering I have my key, I take it out and let us in. We head immediately to Stiles’ room where Derek rummages through some dirty shirts and his pillows. Chris tiptoes around the room, searching for any sort of hints. We’re not in the room for more than ten minutes when Chris turns around swiftly looking at us. I look up at him and raise a brow silently asking what’s wrong. His face tells me he’s found something—and something good.

“He’s in your loft,” Chris tells us.

“And how do you know that?” Derek asks. He places Stiles’ belongings back down.

Chris gestures us to come over so we do as told. He points to the chess set. The pieces are all arranged in a particular order, which I don’t seem to get. I read the labels, attempting to make sense of what’s in front of me. The pieces seem to be in the same order when I last looked them, but that’s when I notice that Isaac’s piece is sitting next to the board and not on it. I stare at it for a moment because I distinctly remember his piece resting on the board. I look back at the board and try to find if there’s anything else out of place.

From what I can see, the other pieces appear to be in place. Something else does catch my eye. A slip of paper is sticking out from beneath one of them and I notice that it’s Stiles’ piece; I left the piece up and take the paper in my hands. On it, are four letters: “TFLO.” In my head, I rearrange the letters and attempt to see what words I can make out of it. All I come up with is “loft.” Is it really that easy? I think.

“Are you sure this is code for loft?” I question.

“What else could it be?” Chris says.

“Well, let’s go.”

Hastily, Chris drives towards Derek’s loft. It’s a good fifteen minute ride. My nerves are exceedingly high, sparking my old habit of popping my fingers. Something tells me we’re on the right track by heading to the loft. When we arrive, I notice Mr. Stilinski’s car is already here. I swear under my breath and hop out of the car as soon as it’s parked. I run for the door of the loft with Derek tailing me. We enter and hear Mr. Stilinski talking to Stiles. Allison comes up behind me as well, making me wonder where she’s been this whole time.

The four of us enter the room. I notice a broken pair of handcuffs at Stiles’ feet. He watches us closely as we make our way towards him. Stiles smirks at us and gives us a look that is not his own. I return the stare and hope I’m masking my fear because the last thing I want is to let the nogitsune know I’m terrified.

I stand beside Mr. Stilinski on his left, looking Stiles in the eye. I watch as Allison points the taser at him; she shoots. A small gasp escapes my lips as I watch Stiles stop it, not affected by it all. Allison and I share an apprehensive look. With that outcome, we realize that nothing is going to go as planned. A growl comes from behind me and I turn in time to see Derek lunge for Stiles who manages to throw around the toughest and strongest guy I know. Derek lands in a heap on the floor. I gulp and watch as he moves away from Stiles.

To my left, I see Chris reaching towards his hip. I heave a sigh and look straight at Stiles. There’s no sign of my Stiles in those chocolate brown eyes, which tears me apart. I close my eyes for a moment at the familiar sound, knowing that this isn’t going to end well. In the corner of my eye, I see Chris pull the gun out of its holster. We make eye contact. I shake my head no, insisting he doesn’t do anything like that. Without giving me any sort of reply, he points the gun directly at Stiles. I share a weary glance with the sheriff, neither of us wanting Argent to go any further.

“Listen to me, Argent,” Mr. Stilinski says. “Don’t do this.”

“Why not?” Chris says calmly. “I’ve done it before. I can easily add a nogitsune to the list.”

Mr. Stilinski quickly whips out his gun and points it at Chris. I put a hand on his arm in attempts to stop him. He looks at me, and I can see the strain in his eyes.

“Stop,” the sheriff manages to say. “Dammit, Argent! Listen to me!”

“You’re not gonna shoot my son.”

“You said it yourself, Sheriff. That’s not your son.”

“Put it down. Put it down!”

“He’s gonna shoot me. He’s gonna kill me, Dad,” Stiles says.

I look up at Stiles and for a moment it feels like it’s really him. Then, I remember that the nogitsune plays tricks, and I can’t help but feel like this is another mind game. Is it really Stiles or is it the nogitsune again? Allison and I glance at one another. The look of terror in her eyes is reflected in mine, I’m sure.

“Put it down!” The sheriff yells.

“Stop it! The both of you—just stop it!” I holler.

“Stay out of it, Jessie!” Chris shouts at me.

“Argent, what are you doing?” I cry.

“Put it down! Now! Do it! Put it down!” The sheriff bellows.

“Do something!” I scream, looking at the sheriff frantically.

“Pull the trigger,” Stiles says tauntingly as he looks at Argent.

“You listen to me! Put the gun down!” The sheriff continues

“Dad!” Allison shouts.

“Shoot me!” Stiles screams repeatedly.

It suddenly gets darker in the loft. My eyes look quickly towards the windows. I notice that it’s gotten significantly darker. Derek and I share a worried look.

“Stop it!” Allison cries. “Stop it! This is exactly what he wants!”

“Not exactly,” Stiles rebuts. “I was hoping Scott would be here, but I’m glad you all have your guns out ‘cause you’re not here to kill me.”

With that said, four dark figures appear in the loft. I take a step back surprised by their sudden apparition. Derek quickly comes to my side in order to protect me. I loop my arm in his as he stands somewhat in front of me, blocking me from any danger. Mr. Stilinski fills the small gap between us and faces the dark figures that have yet to move or make a sound. Allison and Chris take a stand beside the three of us, forming a small line.

“You’re here to protect me,” Stiles finishes.

Stiles walks towards us and gets in the line that we’ve formed. He squeezes his way between the sheriff and I. I bite my lip and refuse to look up at his face. Internally, I’m breaking at the thought of it’s not my Stiles, but I refuse to let it show. All I want to do is reach out and hold his hand; all I want is to hear him laugh. Thoughts of him turning to face me with that same twinkle in his eyes and that familiar crooked laugh fill my mind. As I wish that it would happen, I finally understand how you can love someone so much, but you can never love people as much as you miss them.1

I, the girl who’s lost her family and is close to losing her best friend, know that better than anyone else. Suddenly, the fighting begins and I back into a corner as the others fight them off. I crouch into a fetal position and watch helplessly from the sidelines, wishing for a safe ending. As soon as it began, the fight is over. All of them, including Stiles, are gone, leaving us breathless and shocked. We all manage to muster a few words before going our separate ways. Derek and I stand silently in his loft for a moment after the others have dispersed. Neither of us speaks or moves, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, Derek breaks the silence.

“I can take you home, Jess,” he says softly.

I shake my head. “No, I want to stay here for a bit… If that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Derek walks away towards a table so I follow him. I walk around him and seat on a stool. For a few minutes, we sit in silence and simply get lost in thought. I watch him, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. That’s when I realize he’s not healing.

“Derek, you’re not healing,” I say surprised.

I reach up and touch the long gash gently. Derek winces and I quickly pull my fingers away. He mutters that he’s fine and not to worry about it. I sigh and take a closer look at it, trying not to touch so that I won’t hurt him. For a while, the two of us make small talk and not about anything in particular. I pull forward the chess board that’s resting on the table in front of us as Derek collects all of the pieces in a pile. As we’re doing so, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. I peer over my shoulder and see Peter coming down. We make eye contact, but only for a moment.

I’m not sure why exactly, but Peter and I rarely speak. Since my return to Beacon Hills, we’ve spoken three or four times—literally. And when we do speak, it’s never for more than a couple minutes. We’ll say a few words to each other when we’re with the rest of the group, but it’s never more than a few quick and direct words. It’s not that I hate him, but he’s fully aware of my caution and weariness of him. I’ve never been comfortable around Peter; since I met him, I’ve always had a strange feeling that he’s hiding something, like he’s up to something. I’ve never been a fan of people like that. I hate the feeling like someone is keeping secrets from the group that could potentially be useful or even harmful to others.

Derek is setting the pieces in their corresponding spots when Peter approaches the table.

“What are you doing?” I ask Derek.

“This is a game to Stiles,” Derek says, “so I’m going to figure out what he’s playing at.”

“It’s not going to be as easy as you think,” Peter says from across the table.

“And why not?”

“Stiles isn’t playing by any rules. He’s just playing. How do you expect to catch him if he leaves no clues, no trails? You can’t play a game with no rules, Derek.”

Derek stares at him for a moment, not speaking. Finally, Derek returns to the chessboard and plays with the pieces. Peter shares a look with me before walking away. I silently watch Derek for a few moments. I’m quickly becoming exhausted.

“Can you take me home?” I ask quietly.

“Sure, kiddo,” Derek says. He smiles sympathetically at me, knowing that I’m hurting much more than I’m letting on.

Once home, I slip my shoes off by the front door. It’s nearly midnight and I know Melissa is working. I slowly make my way up the stairs. Instead of going into my room, I make my way past it and towards Scott’s room. The door is cracked open so I peek my head open. Scott’s head quickly looks up at the noise. He smiles and tells me to come in.

“Can I sleep with you?” I ask. “I’m scared to be alone.”

Scott offers me a small, sheepish grin. He scoots over, leaving me room to scoot in bed next to him. I crawl into bed next to him.

Scott smiles. “Sure, sis… We’re going to figure this out, okay? Sleep tight.”

I simply smile and nod, turning around. Before long, I drift off to sleep, letting the darkness and comfort of silence take control me.

Index  
1 - John Green


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com OR on wattpad.com/user/teddy-i-am.

Two days have passed since that night. I sleepily stumble my way downstairs and into the kitchen. It’s four thirty in the morning, and I’ve been unable to sleep for the last half hour. No one in the house is up, not Scott nor Melissa. I enter the kitchen to find a figure sitting at the table. He spent the night, but I didn’t think he’d be up at this hour. I pause, not sure of what to do. Finally, he looks up at me, and I can see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Hey, beautiful,” Stiles says as he runs a hand through his hair. “I made coffee and there’s some left if you want any.”

I thank him as I pour myself some. I sit across the table from him and watch him carefully. Stiles is exhausted mentally and worn down physically, which is expected considering we just rescued him last night. Unfortunately, the nogitsune is still out there with Lydia as hostage. When we managed to rescue Stiles, I thought I’d have a minute—if only a minute—to breathe and relax. But no. It’s one step forward and three steps back. We got Stiles back and lost Lydia.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Stiles asks me, breaking the silence.

I shake my head and say, “No. Sleep isn’t the same anymore. Since all this shit started, my sleep schedule manages to always get interrupted. It always seems that we have to do something in the dead of night or I can’t sleep because I’m thinking of all the things that are going wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

I look at him as if he’s strange. “Wait? What are you talking about?”

“It’s all my fault. Everything is my fault. The deaths, the fighting, your loss of sleep, and everyone’s problems are my fault.”

“Are you kidding me? This hasn’t been you causing all the problems. Stiles, it’s the nogitsune that’s been doing everything.”

“Yeah, but…” He pauses. “But he made me do all these things. And you know what? I remember it all. So who’s to say I’m not responsible?”

I stare at him. His brown eyes that are usually gleaming with happiness are dark from exhaustion and pain.

“Because the Stiles I know has the biggest heart in the world. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone. The Stiles I know would do anything to help or to protect someone. He wouldn’t do anything like that. And if anyone thought differently, it’d be because someone, maybe a nogitsune, tricked him or her into thinking so. Either that or they’re just stupid, and it’s probably the latter.”

Stiles chuckles at my last few words, but I can still the frustration in his eyes.

“Do you really blame yourself that much?” I ask softly.

“I don’t know,” Stiles shrugs. “I sort of do, but I don’t at the same time. It’s confusing. I’m so damn exhausted and lost. It’s so hard to not just give up when it’s all you really want to do.”

Stiles looks me in the eyes. He’s completely serious, and I don’t know what I can say or do to make him feel any better. I stand up and make my way around the table to stand in front of him. Stiles looks up at me; I gesture for him to scoot back, which he does. Once he does, I take a seat in his lap. Instantly, his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me tightly into his side. I rest my face in the crook of his neck. For the first time in weeks, everything feels like how it used to be, even if it’s just for a moment.

“I love you,” Stiles says. I look up at him and smile.

“I love you too,” I reply. He stands up and holds me bridal stair. “Where are we going?”

“Let’s rest for a little bit. We got a big day ahead of us.”

Stiles sits me on the couch and lays down next to me. I snuggle into his side. He kisses my temple and plays with my hair. It’s not long before we drift off to sleep. What feels only like seconds I’m awoken by an elbow to my face.

“What the hell?” I ask loudly and a bit irritated. I see Stiles standing up, stumbling around and about ready to fall over. “Stiles! Scott, hurry! Stiles, can you hear me?”

Scott comes running into the room and catches Stiles as he falls. I stand up quickly, not expecting Stiles to have actually fallen. I approach the two of them. Stiles jumps as my hand touches his shoulder. He looks back with fear in his eyes. When he sees me, he sighs heavily, glancing between Scott and me. Stiles is a nervous wreck, and I’m not sure where it’s come from.

“Sit down,” Scott instructs him.

Stiles refuses, insisting that he has to see his dad. Scott ensures him that the sheriff is fine and that he’ll take care of him. Finally, we get Stiles to sit down, which is when I notice he’s shivering.

“Stiles, you’re freezing,” I say. I throw the afghan around him.

“How much does it hurt?” Scott asks, sensing that he’s in pain.

Stiles tries to play it off, but we eventually get him to admit that it hurts a lot. At that moment, Scott gets a phone call. Stiles looks at me, offers me a weak smile, and wraps an arm around my shoulder. I wrap an arm around his torso, hugging him tightly.

“We need to get to the school,” Scott says. “Meredith is at the school.”

We hop into my jeep and race towards the school. Kira is waiting outside when we arrive; we run around the school, looking for the girl who escaped from the mental institute. We find her in the music room where the coach tasing a cop; he yells at us to get her out of there so we take her to the car. I sit in the back of the Jeep next to her while Stiles drives. She’s silent the whole way.

“C’mon,” I tell Meredith when we arrive home, “let’s go inside and talk.”

My mouth drops open when I enter. In front of me is Rafael; my uncle opens his mouth to greet me, but he pauses when he sees Meredith. Scott comes in and he’s speechless too.

“What is she doing here?” Rafael asks shocked.

“We’re working on a school project,” Stiles says quickly. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Rafael points at me and then at Stiles, not certain what’s going on.

“You’re not my type.” She nods at Isaac who looks around bewildered. “He’s my type.”

“Well, Isaac can come too. Let’s go upstairs.”

“Scott, stay down here,” Rafael says, “We need to talk.”

Leaving Scott behind, the rest of us head upstairs in order to question her about Lydia. It takes awhile, but she finally understands whom we’re talking about. She explains to us that Lydia doesn’t want to be found. The guys start trying to get her to give us answers while I sit in the corner.

“Isn’t anyone going to get that?” Meredith says seriously. The three of us stare at her confused. “The phone?”

“Oh the phone?” Stiles stutters. Finally, it clicks for the three of us. “The phone!”

He answers his phone before handing it to her. She says nothing for a moment before she speaks something in French. We stare at her confused.

“Is it Spanish?” Isaac asks.

“French,” Scott and I answer together.

I take Meredith to my uncle as Scott explains everything to the guys. I only tell him what he can know; the others enter as I finish. Scott calls Allison and Kira who agree to meet us at the location where we know Lydia is. The car ride feels like an eternity, but it’s actually rather quick. When we arrive, Allison and Kira are standing in front of the gates. We all group up in a circle. I look at all my friends. How is this going to end? Who is going to get hurt—and how badly? Stiles’ hand encloses mine. The little gesture assures me that we can do this if we fight hard enough.

“We’ve done this before guys,” Scott says. “A couple weeks ago we were standing around just like this. We saved Malia remember? That was a stranger. This is Lydia.”

As we all stare at one another, a silent agreement is made that we will carry through with this. We all know that we have each other’s back.

“I’m here to save my best friend,” Allison says in a bit of rush.

“I came to save mine,” Scott shares a look with Stiles, making me smile.

“Honestly, I felt obligated,” I say sarcastically.

“I just didn’t feel like doing any homework,” Isaac says nonchalantly.

We both smirk. The others all look at us as if we’re crazy. I suppress my giggles at their expense. Stiles is fighting a smile, which makes it even more difficult for me to keep from laughing. Allison glances at me; as much as she admires my humor, I can tell that she’s not happy with it at the moment. I mutter an apology. No one says another word and we make our way past the gates. Kira’s mother approaches us and tells us to go home. Scott, Stiles, and I go inside as the others stay back. I run through the dark tunnels with Scott in front of me and Stiles behind me. After a few curvy tunnels, we find her.

“Lydia!” I cry with joy when I see her behind the bars.

She collides with me when she’s free, hugging me tightly. I release her and smile, but she doesn’t smile back. Her lips quiver; her hands tremble. Something’s wrong. The fear in her eyes is so fierce it pierces me to the core. The guys question her, trying to make sure she’s okay and figure out what happened. Something terrible is evolving. My gut tells me it’s not going to happen here.

“Why are you here?” Lydia says worriedly. “You weren’t supposed to be here! Who else is here? Who came with you?!”

Without waiting for them, I run back the way we came. A few seconds later, I hear them running too. Time is nonexistent as we race back. I’m in front with Scott tailing me. My lungs are flaming, but I push harder to get to the clearing. I feel like I’ll never make it out; that I won’t reach them and be able to keep them safe. The tunnels seem longer than before, like they’re expanding before of my eyes. What feels like a lifetime later, Scott and I finally emerge from the building.

We rush towards the others just in time to see the most terrifying scene unfold in front of us. Stumbling in my tracks, I gasp and try to regain my breath. I see Allison look down at her abdomen. My mouth hangs open as I see the sword sticking out of her back. There’s no sound to be heard. No voices. No footsteps. No breathing. No thinking. Absolutely nothing. A shaky breath escapes my lips, followed by the pricking numbness of grief. My shaking hands ball into fists.

“Allison,” I manage to gasp, ending the silence. The astonishment, frustration, and sorrow hit me like waves. “Allison? No no no NOOOO!!”

We both watch Allison helplessly as she pulls it out of her. Rushing towards her, Scott catches her as she collapses. He sits down, and I kneel next to them. I apologize for not staying here to have her back, to be her sidekick like usual. Allison smiles and reaches for my hand. She tells me she’s grateful for me because I always have her back; she begs me not to ever lose my humor and to continue taking care of the others. I vow that I will.

The tears fall from my eyes and the lump in my throat swells. I smile at her one last time before walking over to Isaac. I loop my arm through his; Isaac moves closer to me, needing some comfort too.

“Did you find her?” Allison gasps. “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay,” Scott whispers, stroking her hair.

“Take care of her. You have to take care of Lydia—and Jessie too. I can’t anymore. Watch out for them. Scott, promise me you’ll take care of them?”

“I promise. Allison, please stay—”

She interrupts him, stating she’s ready. Scott lets out a tiny sob. Allison speaks again, using what remaining strength she has. As she talks, I notice Scott trying to take her pain away, but it’s useless.

“It’s okay,” Allison assures him. “It’s okay. It’s perfect. I’m in the arms of my first love. The first person I’ve ever loved. The person I’ll always love. I love you, Scott McCall.”

“No, don’t,” Scott begs. “Stay. Please stay here with me.”

“It’s okay. I’m ready.”

“Allison, don’t please.” He’s crying harder, not wanting her to leave.

“You have to tell my dad. You have to tell him.”

Like she’s just drifting to sleep, she takes her last breathe.

And with that, we all lose it, desperately wishing for her to come back. But unfortunately, the world is not a wish-granting factory.1 One of my best friends just died before my eyes and there was nothing anyone could do. I feel like I betrayed Allison. Because I am more human than hero2, I couldn’t save her. Did I miss a clue that could’ve saved her? Was I too slow getting back to the clearing? What could I have done to save Allison?

Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing any of us could have done. We failed, and Allison had to suffer the consequences. Losing Allison was inevitable I realize. We can tell ourselves whatever we want to feel better, but it won’t change the fact that she’s gone. I try to remind myself I couldn’t have done anything to save her, but that’s easier said than done as I watch my cousin hold her as he cries, wishing for her to come back. Isaac wraps an arm around my shoulders. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t have to because I can feel the shock moving through his body as he holds back silent sobs.

Behind me, there are footsteps. I look up and see Chris standing next to me. His eyes are wide, and he’s still as a rock. Unable to take the pain anymore, he grabs onto something next to keep himself upright. Silence echoes around the place. Our breathing and sobs can’t even be heard over the pounding pain. The heaviness in the air pushes down on us, reminding us of our loss. I sniffle and attempt to push back the tears that are slowly coming to a stop.

Because Allison died, we all know that we’ll spend our lives in this hell—in this shit hole known as Beacon Hills—trying to fight our way out. But is there really a way out? I close my eyes and rest my head on Isaac’s shoulder; Isaac’s arms wrap tighter around me and I can still feel him crying silently. The darkness is all too bright in my eyes; the silence is deafening; the throbbing in my tender heart is much too strong. How many times can we break before we’re irreparable?

Index  
1 - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars  
2 - Javon Johnson, “Cuz He’s Black”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com.

Lying in his arms should make me happy. Listening to his heartbeat should make me feel relieved. Being tucked into his side should make me feel whole. So why don’t I? Dark and empty is all I feel. It’s nine in the morning and Stiles is still sleeping beside me. I haven’t slept since five; what little sleep I did get was short and terrible. I can’t stop replaying last night: the moment I saw Allison pull the knife out of her abdomen, collapsing into Scott’s arms. Allison’s death has haunted me over the last several hours. Although the pain is unfathomable, it’s easy to think this has all been just a dream. I keep waiting for her to text me, wanting to see if I want to hang out.

But she won’t. Allison will never call again. I grab my phone from the bedside table while trying not to move too much because I’m afraid I’ll wake Stiles. His heavy breathing and slight snore lets me know he’s still sleeping. I dial the same number I had memorized several weeks ago. Hey this is Allison! Sorry I couldn’t make it to the phone. Just leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. And with that, there’s a beep. For a moment, I don’t move or hang up, wanting to hold onto the sound of my friend’s voice. Giving up, I finally decide to crawl out of bed. I manage to creep out the room without waking Stiles. I walk down the hall and downstairs to the kitchen. Melissa is making coffee when I walk into the kitchen.

When she sees me, she offers me a small smile. Melissa hands me a mug full of a coffee. I smile and take it from her. Neither of us speaks as we stand in front of the counter, drinking our coffee. Melissa and I glance at each other. My hair is in front of my eyes, but I’m too exhausted and hurt to move it. Melissa reaches over and tucks the strand out of my face. I’m so grateful to have such an amazing woman like her to look up to and to have her care for me. Lord knows what I’d do without her.

“You’re so strong, Jessie,” Melissa says quietly. “After everything you’ve been through, ordinary people would’ve broken down completely by now. You came back home to Beacon Hills expecting to recover, not knowing you’d return home to this crazy mess… I love you, sweetie.”

Strong. Am I really strong? I’m not sure. All of this is habit for me: I’ve grown so used to having to be what others need me to be that I just do it; I straighten up, I put on the brave face, and I take the task or problem head on. I turn into who and what they need me to be. And I’m not sure that really classifies as being strong. Am I strong, or just merely doing what I should be doing? You know, doing the right thing?

“Thank you,” I say. “For everything. You’ve been an incredible aunt and second mother to me. I’m so glad you’re okay. You know, the other night, I was afraid I was going to lose you there for a second.”

I think of how Melissa almost died, shuddering at the thought. She puts a hand on my shoulder and offers me a small smile.

“I could never leave you kids,” she says with a smile.

I return her smile and take a sip of my coffee. After talking with Melissa for a few more minutes, I decide to retreat back upstairs. I pass Isaac’s room, and I notice how he’s sitting in his bed staring at the wall. I knock, hoping that I’m not disturbing him.

“Hey,” Isaac says softly. “Come in.”

I enter and take a seat at the foot of his bed. There’s a sorrowful look in his eyes. It hurts to see the usual sarcastic Isaac like this. Poor Isaac has had his fair share of hardships in the past and now there’s this. Isaac opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find the words to say so he closes his mouth.

“I know,” I mutter. “It hurts like hell. I feel it too.”

“It hurts like a bitch. I feel so much, but nothing all at the same time… I just keep thinking she’ll call, you know? Like nothing’s happened.” Isaac pauses before continuing. “I just want it to stop. All of it—the pain, the chaos, the deaths.”

I nod. “I keep thinking that too. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy—because I’m for sure as hell it’s not going to be easy—but, Isaac, we’re going to get through this. We have each other. You know I’ll always have your back. And we have the others. The pain won’t escape us, but we’ll learn how to cope with it.”

Isaac nods, not saying anything. I offer him a small smile. With my empty hand, I reach over and tussle his hair. He manages to smile weakly at me. I tell him to come get me if he needs me, and with that, I exit Isaac’s room. As I head back to my room, I nearly spill my coffee when I collide with someone who’s exiting the bathroom.

“Hey, love,” Stiles says, steading me. “I was wondering what happened to you.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, “so I went downstairs to find that Melissa had made some coffee.”

“What do you want to do today?” Stiles asks. He watches me from his spot in bed.

I grab my laptop and ask, “Netflix?”

“Sounds awesome to me.”

I hand it to him as I get back into bed beside him. Stiles gets the laptop set up. I snuggle into his side, and he throws an arm around me.

“How are you holding up?” Stiles asks gently.

“I’m hanging in there,” I say. “And you?”

“I’m hanging in there too, but that seems like it.”

“I know exactly what you mean… One wrong move and I’ll be falling down.”

“I love you,” Stiles mumbles, kissing my temple.

“I love you too,” I say smiling.

For a while, Stiles and I catch up on Breaking Bad. Around noon, we go to the kitchen for lunch. Isaac and Scott are down there as well; the four of us decide to cook breakfast since none of us have eaten today. I wonder how everyone else is holding up, and that’s when I think of him.

“Have any of you talked to Chris since last night?” I ask.

I take my dish to the sink, beginning to clean it since I’m finished eating.

“No,” Scott says. “Why?”

I shrug and say, “I was just wondering… I’m going to run by his place and check on him.”

I grab my jean jacket that’s hanging on the rack by the front door, putting it on with the rest of my outfit. Chris is going through an incredibly difficult time, I’m sure. With the loss of Allison, Chris has lost all his family. I have to check on him and make sure he’s ok. I arrive at his apartment complex fifteen minutes later to find that Chris’ vehicle is in the parking lot. I knock on the door, but no one answers so I try again. No answer. I reach under the mat and find the key to the door. Allison had told me about that key a week after we met so that I could enter as I please. I walk through the front door to find that the apartment is dark. Where’s Chris?

“Chris?” I say loudly. “It’s me, Jessie! I’m just coming by to check on you.”

“I’m in here.”

I make my way into the kitchen. No Chris. I enter the living room. Staring blankly at a dark television screen, I see Chris sitting in an armchair.

“Hey, Jessie,” Chris says. “You didn’t have to come by.”

“Maybe so,” I respond, “but I can’t imagine not visiting.”

I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to push Chris to talk.

“I’ve settled everything,” Chris says after a few moments. “The funeral and all that I mean. The sheriff helped me develop a cover-up story. Then, I set up a time for the funeral tomorrow. I didn’t set up visitations. I thought it’d be best to keep it to the funeral. I want it to be private.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

Chris looks up at me. My heart breaks at the gloom and heartache in his eyes. As much as I want to help him and to fix everything, nothing seems to be enough. Nothing is going to bring Allison back. The look in his eyes signifies to me that he’s barely holding it together. His body language and the agony in his eyes let me know that he’s stuck and sure of how to get free. I can tell that Chris is trying to wrap his head around the fact that Allison is gone; that Allison has left this world and won’t be returning.

Accepting that fact and learning to cope with it are two completely different things. It’s emotionally draining. Unfortunately, I’ve been here before. I feel my heart clinch with heartache at the sight of him. I’ve never seen this side of Chris before; he rarely shows emotion. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him let anyone in, except for Allison. Chris always puts on this facade—you know, the image of being strong and unable to break. But there’s no fooling me because I would imagine there are days when Superman wakes up, glances at his cape, and wonders when someone will come save him.1

“Chris,” I say softly, “I’m so sorry. It doesn’t amount to much and it doesn’t fix anything, but I’m so damn sorry. I’ll be here for you—we all will. Whatever you need me to do—”

“Thank you,” Chris interrupts. He heaves a heavy sigh. “I mean it, Jessie. Thanks for coming over. I don’t know what I’m going to do or how I’m going to get over this. All I know is that I’m glad you and the others are okay. Thank god everyone else made it out alive.”

“Any time, Argent.” I punch him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m glad to know that you’re still around too.”

Chris chuckles. The two of us are silent for a few moments. It’s so silent in the apartment that I can hear the clock ticking on the wall behind me.

“Can I say something?” I ask tentatively. He nods so I continue. “I don’t think Allison died in vain. Fighting with us is something she never second-guessed. If you don’t live a life in service of a greater good, you’ve gotta at least die a death in service of a greater good, you know?2 I think Allison did both—she lived a life and died a death in service of a greater good. If there was anyway around it, I’m sure she would’ve found a way to stay here. But sometimes things are bound to happen no matter how hard we try to fight it.”

“I keep telling myself that, but it doesn’t make things easier.”

I give him a sympathetic look and ask, “Do you need anything?”

“No thanks. I’m okay.”

“What time is the funeral?”

“The service starts at the funeral home at eleven.”

“Okay. I’ll let the others know. We’ll come by early to see if there’s anything we can do… If that’s ok of course.”

“Alright that’s fine with me.”

I stand up, and Chris follows suit. We make our way back towards the door of the apartment.

“See you tomorrow,” I say, moving out into the hallway. Chris nods. “Take it easy, Argent. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Bye, Jessie. Thanks again.”

When I’m back in my Jeep, I notice that it’s already one o’clock. I call Stiles before heading back home.

“Hey, Stiles,” I say once he answers.

“What’s up?” Stiles asks. “How’d things go with Argent?”

“Fine. Chris is as you’d expect. Things are difficult for him, but I think things will get better with time.”

“That’s good… So you’re coming home?”

“Yeah. But can we go do something when I get back? I don’t think I can sit around in the house all day.”

“Of course we can, love. I’ll see you when you get home.”

I say goodbye, and shortly afterwards, I arrive home to see Stiles sitting on the doorstep. I roll down my window and whistle at him. Stiles laughs loudly as he makes his way towards me. I watch him sit in the passenger seat and buckle up. Feeling my eyes on him, Stiles glances at me once he’s situated. He offers me that crooked grin that still warms my soul and makes me happy even after all these years.

“Where to, beautiful?” Stiles says.

I begin to drive and say, “I was thinking about going into town. Maybe we can do some window shopping.”

Stiles reaches over and rests his hand on my knee. He agrees that my idea sounds fun. We sing loudly to the music on the radio as we make our way through Beacon Hills. When we make it into town, we walk aimlessly through the streets, staring into the windows of shops and restaurants. Goofing around with Stiles reminds me just how great things can be.

Even with the pain of missing Allison, I am reminded of how bright things can be. Although one of my best friends is gone forever, she’s not really gone. Wherever she is I know Allison is with me: her sparkle is in the sun shining down, her beauty is in the flowers, and her courage lives on in us. Recognizing this aids me, even if it’s only a little. Holding hands and giggling with Stiles, I am reassured that we can make it through this mess.

Index  
1 - Tyler Knott Gregson  
2 - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com.

Nothing but the soft music from the radio can be heard on the ride home. Allison’s funeral service just ended and none of us can seem to get our thoughts together, much less find the words to speak. Melissa, Scott, and I are making our way our home while the others go their separate ways. It’s three in the afternoon and earlier today we all agreed to meet at the park to grill burgers and hotdogs for dinner. I had made the suggestion of us doing something so that we could spend time together like Allison would want; I made it clear that it doesn’t have to be an extravagant memorial service, but if we do want to talk about Allison and tell stories we can. Everyone agreed it’d be great to be together because, honestly, we need each other more than ever.

When we arrive home, I head to my room to change out of the dress I wore to the funeral. I find a pair of dark shade jeans and put on the lacrosse sweatshirt that has Stiles’ name on it. I run a hand through my hair, brushing it out of my eyes. My phone rests next to my Beats Pill so I decide to play some music; I decide to play some Fall Out Boy. I fall onto my bed, exhausted from fighting the supernatural and upset over losing a friend. It’s over, I think, sighing and running a hand through my hair. Well, it’s all over for now at least—it is Beacon Hills after all so something is bound to happen with the supernatural again.

Fortunately, our fight with supernatural is at a halt for the moment, giving us time to rest and to catch our breath. After a few minutes of lying there, I look away from the ceiling and over towards my dresser across the room. I notice a shoebox sitting on the dresser. I grin and get up to grab the shoebox, bringing it back to my bed. I’m picking up the first picture when there’s a knock on my door. I look up to find Scott standing in the doorway.

“Come in,” I say with a smile.

Scott enters silently and takes a seat on the bed next to me. I hand him the picture. He takes it, chuckling once he recognizes it. We were five years old in the picture where we’re playing at the playground.

“You cried so hard when you dropped that ice cream,” Scott says with a grin on his face. “I know picking on you is something I’ve done for years, but I’ve always hated seeing you upset—even if it wasn’t my fault—so I caved and let you share my ice cream cone with me.”

“You made my day, you know,” I say softly.

We share a smile and don’t say anything for a moment as we look at the picture. Things were much simpler then. How had we grown into the tough, challenged teenagers that we have become today? Is there any part of who were back then still existing in us today? Since the very beginning, Scott and I have been inseparable. From learning to walk and talk to starting kindergarten to getting braces to the hardest times of my life, Scott has been with me every step of the way. He’s always known exactly how I’m feeling or what I need, whether it’s a night out, a movie at home, or just someone who will listen.

“Thank you,” I say sincerely and almost inaudibly. He stares at me confused as to what I’m thanking him for. “Thanks for being the best cousin—no, the best brother—I could’ve asked for and more. You snuck over to my house so many times when we lived next to each other as kids just because I was stressed, couldn’t sleep, or had a nightmare. But that’s not all. You always had my back. You always protected me…”

I pause and look at the photograph, smiling at how young we were then. Back then, things were so much easier. We weren’t in so much danger back then. How did we get in this mess?

“Whenever we got into trouble,” I say, looking up at Scott, “you’d try to take the blame. I know most of the time I got in just as much trouble as you, but there were times I didn’t because you managed to convince them it was all your fault. In more ways than I can count, you saved my ass a lot growing up, and you didn’t have to. You were always there for me no matter what happened or what I needed from you. After my dad and I moved away, you listened to me until three am on many more nights than you should have. Scott, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

Scott smiles at me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I love you too, Jess. Thanks for being the greatest sister ever. Lord knows where I’d be without you after all these years. In the past two months, you’ve proven just how incredible you are and how much I need you. You’re fanfuckingtastic and don’t ever forget it, Jessie.”

I hug him back and return my attention to the photographs in my shoebox. For the next hour or so, Scott and I flip through the pictures in the box, laughing at all the memories. Sometimes we’re more serious and our eyes brim with tears, whether from sadness or happiness that we’ve made it this far. Finally, Melissa comes in and let’s us know it’s time to go to the park. I grab the picture of Allison and me, tucking it in my pocket. When I walk into the hallway, Scott is exiting the bathroom. Scott and I race each other to the car like the little kids we’ve always been.

When we arrive at the park, Chris and Isaac are the only ones there. Chris is standing over the grill while Isaac is sitting on top of one of the picnic benches. I hug Isaac and take a seat next to him. Chris and Melissa talk as they get all the food started. A few minutes later Lydia shows up with the twins and Kira. Derek comes up behind them, parking his motorcycle next to Lydia’s car. I wave at them and holler at them to come over. I get up to hug them all. Ethan nearly topples me over with his bear hug as he spins me around, causing me to laugh loudly.

“Nice to see you up and about, Aiden,” I say when Ethan sets me down.

“All thanks to you, Jessie,” Aiden says with a smile. “You sure saved my ass.”

I shrug and mumble a “yeah,” making everyone laugh.

“That was a clever idea switching the bags,” Derek says, “and making them think they had gotten what they were after. It really gave us a leg up, so that we could attack without them being ready for it.”

Derek pats me on the shoulder, and I thank him. Aiden eyes me from his spot on the other side of the circle. He wiggles his eyebrows goofily. I bite my lip, trying to suppress my giggles. In one swift movement, Aiden is in front of me; he hugs me tightly. 

“I owe you big time, McCall,” Aiden says, smiling at me as he lets me go.

Nodding, I look down at my feet as I mutter a “you’re welcome.” I blush at their compliments, not sure what to say. I look back up at the two of them, and that’s when I notice how Derek’s eyes glance over my shoulder at something. It was so quick that I’m not sure if I actually saw him do so. Maybe I’m just seeing things; perhaps he really didn’t just do it. Suddenly, I’m attacked from behind; my eyes are covered, preventing me from seeing. I hear a familiar giggle in my ear.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” I say laughing.

“I like my shirt on you, you know,” Stiles whispers in my ear.

Stiles uncovers my eyes and wraps his arms around my waist. I snuggle into him as he kisses my temple. After a moment, I untangle myself from his arms, and I turn around to face him. Stiles offers that wide slightly crooked smile that I love, which I unconsciously return. I take both of his hands in mine as I reach up to kiss him. Everyone is still standing around us, talking amongst themselves.

“Hey,” Stiles mumbles, snaking an arm around my waist. I squeeze his hands, not tearing my eyes away from his. “I missed you.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but laugh. “Stiles, you saw me a few hours ago.”

“That’s far too long to go without seeing you. I finally get you back and I don’t want to let you go. Ever.”

“I love you.”

I blush and giggle, leaning into his side. Stiles cups my face in his hands and kisses me softly, not wanting to kiss me too roughly with everyone around. The others all groan and joke about us. Stiles and I laugh right along with them because we’re too in love to care about the jokes. Not being able to take it anymore, I declare that we play on the playground.

“C’mon, guys!” I say taking Stiles’ hand and dragging him towards the playground.

Stiles throws me over his shoulder and jogs towards the playground. The others all run, push each other, and skip towards the playground. For nearly an hour, we play on the equipment. If only for a moment, we all forget about our worries: the supernatural, Allison’s death, school, what’s going to happen in Beacon Hills in the future, who we’ll grow up to be, and if we will all stick together over the years. It’s as if we’re actually teenagers for once, not having to worry about absolutely anything.

“Guys, dinner is ready!” Chris hollers.

The nine of us race to the picnic tables where we fix our plates. Over dinner, we all make small talk, discussing our plans for the upcoming days. We all continue to talk even after we’ve finished eating. After a while, I decide that there’s something I need to say.

“Hey everyone,” I say standing up on my part of the picnic bench. Everyone turns and looks up at me. “I know I said that this didn’t have to be serious or overly sentimental, but there’s just something I feel like I need to say.”

I’m quiet as a pull the photograph out of my pocket. I stare at it before turning it around to show the others.

“I didn’t know Allison for long,” I begin, “but she became one of the greatest friends that I’ve ever had. Growing up in Beacon Hills, Stiles and Scott were my best friends—and of course they still are. Nothing will ever compare to what I have with these two. And then there’s you, Lydia. You stuck by me when my mom died, when I moved, and when my dad started drinking. I was a total mess. I was lost for a very long time, but you stuck by my side. Most people would have run away from me, but you stayed even when I was miles away. And, Lydia, I can’t thank you enough for that. All three of you took on all those hardships with me—and you put up with all my quirks and my weirdness. I’ll never be able to tell you how grateful I am for you guys.

“When I moved away, you three were practically all I had. Distance and time didn’t change anything—as if anything could tear up the Fantastic Four.” Everyone laughs. “When I returned home to Beacon Hills, I thought they’d be all I’d ever have. Then, I met Allison. She and I hit it off from the start. Except for Lydia, I never had someone to talk to about girl things yet I could with Allison. We could talk about literally anything and not run out of things to say. Allison understood me incredibly well so quickly. I never had to worry about explaining myself to her. She’d do anything for me, even though she didn’t know me for very long. And for that, I’ll be forever grateful.”

I pause, feeling the tears rise in my eyes. Everyone looks at me with tears welling up in their eyes. I step off the bench and I’m greeted with a hug from Stiles and Scott. I walk around the tables and stop in front of Chris.

“Chris,” I say, pushing the tears away, “I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened, and I know it doesn’t fix anything. Just know I tried to protect her like she had protected me for weeks, but I just couldn’t get to her quick enough… I want to give you this picture of Allison and I. It reminds of how Allison is one of the greatest people I’ve had the pleasure to know. I hope you know how much we all loved her and how much she changed our lives. I personally don’t know what I’d do if I had never met her. I just hope she knew how much I appreciated her and our friendship.”

I extend my hand and offer Chris the picture. Chris stands and takes the picture. He wraps his arms around me, hugging me tightly. I hear him sniffle quietly in attempts to prevent the others from seeing the tears. He lets me go yet keeps a hand on my shoulder.

“She knew,” Chris assures me. “Jessie, she cared for you just as much as you cared for her. Thank you for being such an amazing friend to my daughter. And believe me, you protected her well, and she knew it.”

I smile and nod before returning to my seat between Stiles and Ethan. The others all take turns sharing memories of Allison and telling their feelings about her. Our laughter echoes and rings around the playground. Our tears reach the brims of our eyes and occasionally flow over. Reminiscing the memories of Allison, an amazing person, reminds me how lucky we are to have each other. This place in which we live may be full of craziness that is beyond our control. It may crumble and crack; it may birth the supernatural, but it’s home to us. Listening to everyone’s stories, I realize that our town [is] paper, but the memories [are] not.1

After spending hours at the playground, we all agree it’s time to go. It’s been a long day—actually a long few weeks—for us all. We hug one another and say our goodbyes until we see each other the next day of course. Stiles rides home with us because the three of us wanted a sleepover. It’s been quite awhile since we’ve been able to spend time together just the three of us. Once we’re home, Melissa goes straight to bed; this week in particular has been extremely difficult and tiring on her. We make a pallet in the living room and put in a movie. Scott claims the couch, leaving the floor to Stiles and me.

Before long, Scott falls asleep. His snoring fills the room, causing Stiles and I to chuckle. I rest my head on Stiles’ shoulder as he traces circles on my arm. Because we’re not watching the movie, Stiles reaches over and turns off the TV. The room is dark and quiet, except for our quiet breathing and Scott’s snores.

“I’m glad things are getting back to normal,” I say softly ending the silence. “I wish Allison was still here, of course, but it seems like things are finally getting back how they used to be.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, “I’m glad things are calming down again. I’ve missed you so much, Jessie. I’ve missed you so damn much.”

“Well, now we have each other again. We can move past it now.”

For a moment, we’re quiet. I snuggle closer to Stiles and he tightens his grip around my waist. He kisses my temple and plays with my hair.

“I was thinking about you the whole time, you know,” Stiles tells me, breaking the silence. “The whole time I was fighting for you.”

“Really?”

“You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope…2 I didn’t want to lose any of you, but you were the one person I knew had to keep fighting for. I can’t make it without you … just like I know you can’t make it without me. We live for each other, Jess.”

I’m not sure what to say so I hug him tightly and kiss his cheek.

“You’re the greatest, you know,” I tell him after a moment.

Stiles shrugs and gives me that cheeky grin I love. We’re silent for a few moments simply enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you think things are going to get better around here?” I ask him.

“As much as I hope so,” Stiles says, “I really don’t know, Jessie. It’s Beacon Hills so my instinct says that something bad is bound to happen. But who knows–maybe things will actually go back to normal… All I know is that I look forward to spending all my time with you. There’s no one else that I would rather spend the good times and bad times than you.”

“If things do get bad again, I just hope that I don’t almost lose you. I can’t stand for that to ever happen again.”

Stiles kisses my temple. “We’re going to make it ok? It’s sorta like your favorite author said: ‘I’m on a roller coaster that only goes up, friend.’3”

“‘And it is my privilege and my responsibility to ride all the way up with you,’4” I answer with a smile.

Stiles chuckles and kisses my lips. We agree it’s time for bed. Stiles hums an unfamiliar tune in my ear. With Stiles arms around me and the sound of his voice in my ear, I quickly drift off to sleep, thinking nothing but happy thoughts for the future.

Index  
1 - John Green, Paper Towns  
2 - Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire  
3 and 4 - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com.

Any day spent with my best friends is always a day well spent. We woke up this morning and decided we should take advantage of our quiet Sunday afternoon now that Stiles has been released of the nogitsune and our fight with the supernatural is over. I throw my head back in laughter at the joke Scott just told us. I’m still giggling as I turn the corner onto our street in the neighborhood. That’s when I see it.

Although our house is near the far end of the street, I can see it from here. The car that’s parked next to Melissa’s car is familiar. I know the boys haven’t by the way they’re talking and laughing up a storm. I glance in my mirror back at Scott who’s smiling and joking. We’re a few houses away when the boys notice it. I can tell by how Scott stops talking mid-sentence. I pull in front of the house, parking in the street. Before exiting my Jeep, I look back at Scott. For once in my life, I can’t tell what he’s thinking, which is peculiar for us. The three of us get out of the Jeep. I loop my arms in each of their arms, walking between Scott and Stiles.

“I had fun today, boys,” I say with smile, hoping to distract Scott.

“Me too,” Stiles says, grinning and leaning over to kiss my cheek.

Stiles must notice the way Scott is acting because he watches him closely.

“Yeah,” Scott says softly. “It was nice to hang out just the three of us. It was just like old times.”

We enter the house and step into the living room. I’m hanging up my jacket when I see Melissa standing in the entryway of the kitchen. She’s calm, but there’s a look in her eyes that I can’t seem to put my finger on.

“We have company,” Melissa says.

I enter the kitchen. I was right: my uncle is still here. Rafael is sitting at the kitchen table. Stiles and Scott walk in behind me. Scott takes a few steps in front of me while Stiles stands next to me. Stiles intertwines our fingers, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. Melissa takes a seat next to her ex-husband.

“Dad,” Scott says, “you’re still here. I thought you were supposed to leave.”

“Hey, Scott,” Rafael says. “It’s good to see you … and you too, Jessie. I wanted to come and see you all for a bit.”

There’s a bit of an awkward silence before Stiles announces that he’s going to head out. I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly. Stiles kisses my forehead before saying goodbye to Scott; he waves to Melissa and Rafael, and then he heads out the front door. Scott and I sit down at the table. I stare across the table at my uncle.

“So what do you want to talk about?” Scott asks.

“Well, now that things seem to be settled here in Beacon Hills,” Rafael says, “it looks like my job is done here.”

“And you’re just going to leave again?” I ask blatantly. “Like nothing happened?”

My uncle sighs before saying, “Jessie, it’s not like that. I came here as a part of my job. I’ve done it. My job with the police is over. I would really love to stay here, but it just doesn’t seem to be working out that way.”

“But it can,” I say urgently. I’m frustrated, and it’s only getting worse. “It doesn’t seem to be working out that way, or you don’t want it to work out that way?”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Jessie. I’m doing the best that I can to fix things here. Things are complicated—”

“No, I do understand! This is what you do! You came barreling in here a few weeks ago prepared to mess things up with the police and the sheriff’s job. You came back here oblivious to the fact that things in this house would not be okay. What did you expect? That things would just go back to normal with the three of you? You can’t just waltz in here thinking that things are going to go your way because it’s what you want. Not everyone is your puppet! You don’t have the right to come back here and pretend like nothing happened. You can’t just come back after being gone for so long, and then leave again like nothing happened!”

The three of them look at me for a moment without speaking. Scott shoots me a sorrowful look, seeing that I’m terribly upset.

“That’s enough,” Melissa says sternly trying to intervene. The look on my uncle’s face says that he’s not listening to her.

“You’re exactly like your father,” my uncle spats.

“Dad, stop!” Scott pleads. “She just wants to help!”

“You’re foolish, short tempered, stubborn, quick to make assumptions, and—”

“Stop it!” I stand up quickly, ignoring how my chair flies into the counter behind me. The anger is bubbling within me. “My father was a good man who did great things for himself!”

“Becoming an alcoholic was definitely a great thing he did.”

“That was uncalled for,” Scott says angrily, standing up as well. “You can’t talk to her like that or about her father. Dad, you came to talk, but I’m not so sure I want to listen anymore.”

My jaw clenches and my hands ball into fists. I feel the tears burn in the back of my eyes as I try to fit them back. I’m fuming with anger; I bite my lip, attempting to calm myself down. Scott takes a step towards me, reaching out to comfort me but I step back. They all stare at me again and wait for me to speak. I notice how Rafael shares a look with his ex-wife and son; the tensions are high and it’s because of me. Dammit, I think. I’m tearing them apart. All I want is for them to fix things, and I’m ruining it. But what my uncle said about my father is still ringing in my head.

“You’re right,” I say slowly, breathing heavily. “My father was an alcoholic. He was sick okay? And he died because of it. There is no glory in illness… There is no honor in dying of it.1But he did live an honorable life. My father may have not been everything that everyone expected him to be. Before and after he began to drink, he tried his best to make everyone happy, to meet their expectations.”

I take a deep breath and continue, “But you know what? He couldn’t do it because he was human and couldn’t meet the godly expectations set for him. My father was an incredible man that you never had the chance to know because all you ever did was criticize him. He loved you, no matter what you said to him. I admired that about him. I still do, and I’m trying to learn how to do that myself. Dad wanted to make you happy—man, did he want to make you proud! You might not have seen it, but I did, even as a child. I wish in this instance I could be as forgiving as him.”

By the end of my rant, I’m out of breath.

“Jessie,” Melissa says sympathetically. “It’s okay—”

“No,” I say. “It’s not. He came to talk to you and Scott. I’m not going to stand in the way of that anymore. I’m sorry. You guys can talk now.”

I turn around to leave the kitchen. As I step into the doorway of the kitchen, a voice calls out to me.

“Jessie?” I turn to see my uncle standing up. I raise a brow to let him know I’m listening. “You’re exactly like your father, and I mean that… You’re more caring, more loving, and more honest than I’ve ever been. I wish I could be more like you—and him. I wish I had a heart as big as yours and his. I always admired that about him, you know. I’m sorry…”

I nod, unable to find the words to say. And just like my father, I’m quick to forgive. A part of me does forgive my uncle, but another a part of me is struggling to move past it. Can one forgive without getting over it?

“I forgive you,” I finally say, “but I’m not really sure that I’m ready to let you walk back here so easily as if nothing happened. All I want is for these two to be happy, and if that includes you coming back, then that’s what I want. If it means they welcome you back, then I accept that. I’m sorry for not being so welcoming, but I’m trying. And I hope that you can do the same.”

Rafael nods, places his hands in pockets, and says, “You have my word.”

“Goodnight,” I say, leaving the kitchen.

Upstairs in my room, I plop onto my bed. I stare at the ceiling in silence for a few moments. Finally, I reach for my phone and do the same thing I’ve done for years; I call the one person who always knows how to make things better: Stiles. I talk to him for a few minutes before I finally give in to his pleas and tell him that he can come over. I change into an old pair of gray cotton shorts and my Hogwarts sweatshirt after hanging up with Stiles. I scroll through Tumblr, waiting for him to come over. Ten or fifteen minutes later, there’s a tap on my window. I look over and smile at the sight of Stiles grinning like mad. I open the window, allowing him to crawl in.

“It’s not so easy crawling up that landing anymore,” Stiles says with a chuckle.

I crawl back into bed. I watch Stiles as he kicks off his shoes. He’s in his lacrosse sweatshirt and sweatpants; to me, he’s adorable and good-looking nonetheless. Before finally crawling into bed next to me, Stiles takes off his sweatshirt, leaving him in an old gray t-shirt.

“So do you want to talk about it?” Stiles asks, wrapping an arm around me and holding my hand with the other.

I give Stiles a quick explanation of what happened. I play with his hand and fingers, admiring how small mine are compared to his. Tracing shapes on his palm seems to help me relax. With the arm that’s wrapped around me, Stiles pulls me closer into him as I recall what happened.

“I forgive him,” I say, “but at the same time I kind of don’t. I’m just hurt because I remember how he treated my father—plus he just walked out on Scott and Melissa. How can someone just walk out on his family? I’m pissed, but I sympathize with him. I’ve never known exactly why he walked out on them, but I understand that sometimes just walking away can seem easier than facing the situation head on. I recognize that sometimes things happen to people and they’re not equipped to deal with them.2 My father went through that. Drinking was my father’s escape while physically leaving was my uncle’s escape. I forgive him because I want to be the bigger person and because I understand him.”

Stiles kisses my temple. “You know, I think you really do forgive him. You’re just hurt and confused. You’re not ready to let your guard down with him, which is why you think you don’t forgive him one hundred percent. I think you have fully forgiven him, Jessie. Now it’s just up to him to make it up to you.”

I heave a heavy sigh and snuggle closer to Stiles; he snakes his arms around me and pulls me closer into his chest. I bite my lip and play with Stiles’ fingers, contemplating what he said. He does have a point: my problem is that it’s difficult for me to let my guard down with my uncle. How can he ever make it up to me if I keep a wall up? I’m so good at building a wall around my heart to prevent myself from getting hurt. However, tearing down the wall to allow growth and happiness is much harder than keeping it up. 

Wrapped in Stiles’ arms, however, I am reminded that it is possible. I can learn to knock down the wall piece by piece with a little help from my friends. I shift slightly to glance up at Stiles to find him already watching me. Stiles offers me his famous goofy smile that gets me every time. I giggle, leaning up to kiss his lips quickly.

“Thanks for coming over,” I say.

“Of course,” Stiles mumbles. He squeezes one of my hands and traces circles on my other arm. “I can’t stand you being anything but happy. All I want for you is to be happy and safe. I’ll do everything in my power to guarantee you those things for as long as I live.”

I straighten up in my spot next to him and face him. I cup his face in my hands. Stiles places one hand on my knee that’s resting in his lap and his other hand on my forearm. He offers me a smile so big that I can’t help but smile as well. A cheeky look covers his face.

“I have ever told you how hot you are?” Stiles asks, a grin covering his face.

“Beautiful, yes,” I chuckle. “I’m hot? You must be crazy, dude!”

“You are beautiful.” Stiles runs a hand through my hair. “But you’re definitely hot too.” 

I feel my cheeks flush at his words, which makes Stiles smirk. I bite my lip, like I typically do when I’m nervous. Stiles eyes sparkle as he watches me, and he traces my jaw delicately with his fingers. For a moment or two, we’re both silent, drinking in the beauty of each other.

Finally, I lean forward and rest my head on his as I say, “I love you, Stilinski.”

With that, I close the gap between us and kiss him. We’ve only been dating for nearly two months, but we’ve barely had any time to ourselves. The fight is over, and Stiles is back to himself again, giving us a chance to catch up on the time we lost. Things have never gotten all that heated between us. Well, except that one time. We’d been dating for about three weeks when we made out in the locker room after his lacrosse practiced had ended. It was the first time we’d done anything but simply kissing; other than our intensified kissing and the removal of our shirts nothing else happened that day.

Stiles kisses me back intensely, tugging on my waist to pull me closer. Before I realize what’s happening, he pulls me onto his lap. My legs wrap around his waist; I tug on his shirt as I kiss him. Stiles smiles into the kiss, making me giggle. I pull back after a few short moments of kissing him to get some air. My arms are around his neck and my fingers are tangled in his hair. I play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Stiles grins at me before cupping my face and bringing our lips together again. With my free hand, I tug at the hem of his shirt, silently asking him to take it off. Stiles breaks away again and pulls of his shirt. I bite my lip and fight back a smile. As my hands trail his torso, I notice how Stiles watches my hands and traces patterns on my knees.

“God, I fucking love you,” Stiles says.

I lean forward again to kiss him. Stiles thumbs graze the bottom of my shirt, giving me goose bumps. His hand is slowly creeping up my shirt. I smile at him before kissing his cheek, and then I start planting kisses up his jaw. I hear Stiles take in a sharp breath, making me grin. I kiss him just below his ear and I feel him shiver beneath me. Still leaning over him, I shift my body slightly, earning a moan from Stiles because of the friction. Stiles has nearly pulled my shirt over my head when there’s a knock on the door.

“Shit,” we mutter.

Still in his lap, I whip my head around to look at my closed door, wondering who it could be. The knock comes again.

“Jessie, are you still awake?” Scott asks from outside my door.

I look back at Stiles who’s pulling my shirt back down. We both let out the breath that we had been holding, relieved that it’s not Melissa or my uncle. I watch Stiles’ face light up as he chuckles; his cheeks are turning a light shade of pink.

“Yeah, hold on I’m coming,” I say, getting out of Stiles’ lap.

I stand up next to my bed, but I don’t go to open the door without leaning across the bed to kiss Stiles cheek. At my feet, I see his t-shirt and I throw it to him; Stiles puts it on quickly. Scott enters the room after I’ve opened my door.

“I figured you’d be here,” Scott says when he sees Stiles.

“Hey, man,” Stiles says.

“Jessie,” Scott says towards me, “I’m sorry for how things went down with you and my dad. I knew you were upset about how he treated your dad, but I didn’t know you were that upset. I understand if you’re not ready to bring him back into your life…”

“Thanks,” I say, sitting back down next to Stiles. “I forgive him, but it’s going to be difficult having him around. I want you and your mom to be happy. I want you guys to mend your relationship with him. I’m going to try to do so too.”

Scott throws an arm around my shoulders and hugs me tightly. “He was right. Jess, you do have the biggest heart out of everyone I’ve ever met. You too, Stiles.”

I smile, looking at my hands. We talk for a few minutes before Scott says goodnight. Stiles stands up and puts his sweatshirt back on followed by his shoes.

“Well,” Stiles says, “I better head out.”

I stand up and kiss his cheek.

“See ya tomorrow, cutie,” I say with a smile.

“I’m just cute?” Stiles whines. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, signifying that he’s joking.

“You are really sexy too, you know.” I wink at him. With his hands on my waist, Stiles pulls me closer, resting his hands at the small of my back; one of my hands rests on his chest and the other his on his bicep. “You can be adorable too though. I think that’s what makes you all the more attractive to me. You can go from being goofy and adorable to hot all in an instant.”

Stiles places a hand on my cheek. His hand is so big that his fingertips cover my ear and they tangle in my hair. Stiles bends down and kisses my forehead.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” Stiles mumbles. “I love you—I love you so much, Jessie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I say goodbye and watch him walk out my bedroom door. Realizing I never ate dinner, I go downstairs to the kitchen and grab some of my leftover Chinese from the night before. After eating it, I crawl under my covers, smelling Stiles in the pillow that he laid on just before he left. My iPhone is softly playing music on my iHome. With the sweet sound of Mat Kearney, I quickly drift of to sleep.

Index  
1 - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars  
2 - Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jessie’s father dies, she returns to Beacon Hills to stay with her only living relatives: the McCalls. Little does she know that things aren’t going back to normal for her any time soon. Instead, the supernatural is going to make things even wilder as her childhood best friend—and crush—is possessed by a nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fanfic at teddyiam.tumblr.com.

When I wake up this morning, I groan loudly as I remember that it’s Monday. It’s been two days since Allison’s funeral, but nothing’s happened with the supernatural since we defeated the notisgune once and for all the day after her death. For the time being, things are still in Beacon Hills—and I haven’t felt so relieved in such a long time. I lay in bed for another five minutes or so, unable to find the motivation to get up. There’s a knock on the door, but I simply groan louder than before and throw the blankets over my head.

“Up and at ‘em, Jessie,” Melissa says.

I don’t move an inch, but when a loud horn blares in my room, I bolt forward; the blankets are thrown forward in the process. In her hand, I notice that Melissa is holding an air horn.

“Alright I’m up!” I say, getting out of bed.

Melissa giggles as she leaves the room, and I can’t help but laugh too. Standing in front of my bedside table, I reach for my phone; I turn it on and start to play some music on my iHome. Then, I place my phone back down and head towards my dresser in attempts to find something to wear. I sigh, as I can’t find anything in the dresser. Looking in the mirror, I notice that my hair is a wild curly mess, so I run my hands through it to get all the tangles out. I use my comb to get it to fall how I want. Afterwards, I head towards my closet. 

Singing along to the music, I search my closet for something—anything—to wear. A smile covers my face when my eyes fall on an outfit. I slip on a simple red skirt that reaches my knees, followed by a gray v-neck to tuck in the skirt, and lastly a black cardigan. I put the clothes on and head to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and wash my face. I apply some blush and lip-gloss, but that’s all; I’ve never really been one to like makeup. I just never really had any interest (or patience) to learn how to use makeup is all.

Once I’m finished, I grab my backpack that’s sitting on the ground next to my desk. I double check to make sure all of my textbooks and notebooks that I brought home for the weekend are in it. With that, I head downstairs to the kitchen to find Scott and Melissa running around. I stand next to Scott in front of the kitchen counter. I proceed to make a peanut butter jelly sandwich for lunch; in my lunchbox, I also pack some chips, an orange, and some grapes. I sit down at the table, taking two pieces of toast from the plate in the middle of the table. I spread some grape jelly on my toast.

“Shit,” Scott says, looking at his watch. “Now’s the time when we usually leave.”

“Let’s go,” I say.

I throw my backpack over my shoulders. In one hand I carry my last piece of toast and in the other I hold my lunchbox. I follow Scott outside towards my Jeep. The car ride to school is feels quicker today than usual. We show up with plenty of time; we enter the building with time to chat with everyone. Scott and I begin to walk down the hall. I scan the crowds of people standing around their lockers and walking through the hall in attempts to find our group of friends. From my left, a familiar face appears.

“How’s my two favorite people doing this morning?” Stiles asks cheerfully.

Stiles puts an arm around Scott and I, standing between us as we continue walking down the hall. The three of us take up a lot of space walking this way, but none of us really care. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. Scott punches him in the shoulder playfully.

“I’m fine,” I answer.

“It’s going,” Scott says. His voice is sincere, but it carries a sense of heartache that only I catch.

I watch Scott carefully. He's been keeping it together, but barely so; I know that he's been crying when he's alone all while thinking that no one knows. Scott meets my eye and offers me a small, forced smile. Reaching across Stiles, I poke Scott in the ribs, which makes him chuckle. I notice Danny and Ethan take a seat at the bottom of the stairs. I tell the boys I’ll be back and run towards the couple. I sit on the step above the couple, watching them closely.

“Hey, lovebirds!” I say excitedly.

First, I wrap my arms around Ethan’s neck and hug him. I put my hands on Danny’s shoulders and shake his shoulders wildly. They laugh and go back to what they were talking about.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan mumbles. “I just don’t think I can stay…”

Ethan has already mentioned to me how he and Aiden had discussed leaving. Through my tears, I managed to tell him that I understood—even though I would really love for them to stay. I’ve incredibly grown close to Ethan, and he’s become one of my greatest friends. I said that I’d miss him greatly if they left. A very small piece of me might even miss bickering with and annoying Aiden. Plus, we could use all the extra help we can get.

“Actually, it’s okay,” Danny says casually.

My mouth falls open in surprise. Ethan looks at him a bit shocked as well.

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“I like you—a lot. You’re incredibly good-looking.”

“Mhm,” I smirk, earning a chuckle from both of them.

“And you’re sweet,” Danny continues. “I just don’t think I can do it.”

“Date me?”

“Date a werewolf.”

If Ethan was shocked before, then he’s in utter disbelief now. I laugh awkwardly, running my hand through the hair at the back of my head. I know this has to come as a shock to Ethan because it did to me as well when Danny told me weeks ago. Ethan looks up at me and notices the look on my face. He must notice how I’m not that surprised; thus, Ethan understands that I already know that Danny knows.

“Wait. Did you know?” Ethan asks stunned.

Looking down at my hands, I refuse to meet his stare. I don’t want to get in between him and Danny. They’re both my best friends; the last thing I want to do is make matters worse. I know Ethan is shocked—and maybe even hurt because Danny told me first. Yeah, the three of us are extremely close, but Danny and Ethan are couple. They’re supposed to tell each other everything yet Danny hid the fact that he knew for so long.

“Well,” I say, wanting to avoid this, “I’m going to leave you all alone to talk.”

I hug them both again before I get up and walk down the hall. I see Stiles and Scott standing in front of their lockers so I head in that direction. The three of us chat and laugh—something we haven’t really done for a long time. 

“So do you really think things are going back to normal?” I ask them

“For now at least,” Scott says.

“It’s Beacon Hills,” Stiles adds. “Something’s bound to happen again sooner or later.”

“What’s coming will come,” I say, “and we’ll face it when comes.”

The bell rings, causing us to go our separate ways.

During the day, I run into Lydia who waves at me just like we’ve been doing since we were five. I see Aiden between classes. Aiden nods at me, smiling. I nod back trying to be serious, but it doesn’t last long because we both laugh. Isaac and I also see each other while I’m at my locker; he approaches me, dancing crazily. I join in, not paying much attention to anyone else. Everyone around us laughs. Ethan sits with me during history, telling me jokes and distracting me from what Kira’s father is teaching.

Stiles, Scott, and I sit together in the back of the classroom during creative writing; we don’t get much of our assignment finished because we’re more consumed with the comic that we start to write. In economics, Coach catches me off guard and asks me a question. To his disbelief, I answer correctly and make sure to add a touch of sarcasm, which causes the class to laugh. If I’m certain, I see a smile on coach’s face before he turns around. In gym class, Kira and I cling together, dodging the teacher’s orders and ducking past dodge balls. It’s amazing how Kira and I can fight supernatural entities with ease, but we’re utterly useless in everyday activities and sports.

At lunch, I talk with the three theater kids that I met at the bonfire—which seems like forever ago. They tell me about a play that’s coming up and how help will be needed with stage management. They said they recommended me to the play director and said to come by the auditions tomorrow afternoon to meet her. I can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day, hoping that things really are going back to normal. Having a normal day like today is something that we have all really needed.

All day I search the halls for her. My eyes land on the empty seat that belongs to her, stare at her locker, and catch sight of a backpack that’s similar to hers. The tears sting and threaten to fall every time my eyes don’t find her. Every time I see something that reminds me of her my face falls and my heart aches. Seeing the others throughout the day helps, but it also hurts. It hurts a lot because Allison and I usually had interactions at school—just like the encounters I’ve had with the rest of the pack today.

But she is gone. Allison is gone forever.

I pass a board full of flyers on my way back to class after lunch. I stop to read some when something catches my eye. A club has posted a flyer about volunteering at the middle school to tutor the students in need; at the bottom is a quote that stands out to me because it makes me think of what the pack and I have been through the last several weeks. The quote is by C.S. Lewis and reads: “Since it’s likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage.” We have faced some intimidating enemies, but we prevailed and came out as knights and maidens. I smile as I walk, thinking of how we’ll face our next fight with the courage we gained from our past experiences.

The day flies by far quicker than I had originally guessed. It’s not long before Stiles takes one of my hands and kisses my temple as we walk outside the doors of the school. I giggle and lean into his side. We make our way towards my Jeep. I stand in front of my Jeep door. I don’t get in immediately. I don’t get in my jeep immediately. Instead, I lean my back against the door, facing Stiles. Stiles steps forward and closes the gap between us. A huge grin covers both of our faces. He takes my hands, holding one in each of his hands; he holds them up together, admiring how much smaller mine is than his. I move my fingers so that they are in hovering in front of the gaps between Stiles’ fingers.

“Come to my house,” I say, playing with Stiles hands that are resting in front of us.

“Are you going to make me?” Stiles says sarcastically. “I’m not so sure I’m up for hanging out with you anymore today.”

“Whoa someone’s extra sassy today. I guess I won’t be making out with you anytime soon…”

“Alright alright!” Stiles says in a rush. I grin at how adorable he is. “I’ll head straight to your house right now.”

I stand up as tall as I can. I kiss him on the bridge of his nose and forehead followed by the tip of his nose. Next, I let my lips hover in front of his lips, teasing him. Stiles stares at my lips; his hands rest on my hips. After a moment, I kiss his cheek instead. Stiles groans and tugs on my hips, pulling me closer to him. I laugh and finally kiss his lips. We say our goodbyes.

I get into my Jeep. Stiles shuts the door for me. He blows me a kiss, which I pretend to catch and place in my pocket. I watch Stiles walk towards his Jeep a few spots away. Within ten or fifteen minutes, I’m pulling up to my house. I get out of my Jeep to see Stiles pulling up as well. We walk into the house and head to the kitchen. I’m standing in front of the refrigerator when I hear a grumble and look up at Stiles. I raise my brow as if to ask him if that was his stomach growling. We chuckle.

“Sorry I’m a tad bit hungry,” Stiles admits still smiling.

“C’mon,” I say, standing up.

I take his hand and guide him into the kitchen. In the freezer, I find cookie dough. I take the box out and show it to Stiles whose eyes glimmer as he lets out a quiet “whoop!” of excitement. I sit the box on the counter before hopping on the counter myself. While eating the cookie dough, we talk for what seems like forever. We cover an array of things: from sports to school to music to our favorite TV shows to just about everything other than the supernatural.

We’ve been talking aimlessly for nearly an hour and a half when Stiles looks at me with a wide smile. I don’t speak. I watch him closely in attempts to figure out what’s going on his head. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Dance with me?” Stiles says, grinning madly.

“Right now?” I say surprised. “There’s no music.”

“We’ll make our own.”

Stiles offers me his hand. I smile at him and take it. He helps me off the counter before placing his hands on my hips; my arms wrap around his neck. We dance in circles, not saying much. Finally, after weeks of a crazy fight with the supernatural, I find myself content. After years of pain, I find myself blissfully happy. Although my parents and Allison are no long here and although it still hurts, I am reminded how lucky I am and how fragile life is.

In the midst of all the terrible events that have taken place over the last few months, I look at Stiles and suddenly everything is okay. Because, here [my] dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true. Here is the place where I love [him].1 Right now all I need are my friends and family because with them anything is possible and I can make it through anything.

Index  
1 - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games


End file.
